


More Addicting Than the Booze

by WildcatPacer



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 06:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 22,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11868771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildcatPacer/pseuds/WildcatPacer





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: You Don't Look Like Them**

District 12 is the biggest dump in all of Panem. But in my family, we don't want for anything, so I suppose it's a decent enough place to live, provided you don't want for anything.

There are people who do want, though. Plenty.

I've seen them when I pass through what is known as the Seam, the poorer section of the district. It's much dirtier than what is simply referred to as "Town." Mostly miners live in the shanty houses, with just enough wages to feed their families, the many children that they really shouldn't have, if they were being financially wise.

My name is Rosemary Fairchild. I am one of the Fairchilds, the largest Merchant family in all of District 12. So, in that sense, I feel luckier than most of the people here.

Except for today, when my crop of hair that appears like the pallor of dirty rice - a dirty blonde streaked with some brown - draws the attention of some Seam boys as I walk home from school. They are kind of a gang, and known to terrorize most of the school, which is where I'm walking home from.

"Where you going, Townie?" I simply walk faster, hoping I can reach my family's compound before they cut me off. But they do cut me off. They surround me and I suddenly feel very afraid. The Slag Heap, where many of my classmates go to have a good fuck, is not far from here. They could easily force me there and rape me, the lot of them.

Suddenly, a blur of brown hair careens into the pack. Seam grey eyes flash as a boy bravely bullies back the entire gang using only his fists. When a few persist, he brandishes a tanning knife and the rest of the brutish band scatter.

I get a good look at my rescuer. I recognize him from school. He is tall, handsome. Well-built. And boy, can he fight! If he was ever Reaped for the Hunger Games, he could actually win. And a win for District 12 in the Hunger Games has only happened once in almost half a century, so that's saying something!

"What are you doing on this side of the tracks?" Haymitch asks.

"Me? This is my side of the tracks," I frown.

"Sure," the boy smirks. "With the Hob sitting right there?" Really, I'm on the border between Town and Seam.

"I have to run an errand for my mother. Pick something up there," and I point at the Hob. Which is the truth. I go in and pay for my grocery, fully aware that the boy has followed me and sidled up behind me, as if keeping a lookout for more ne'er-do-wells. I leave the Hob, with him still following me.

"You need a walk home?" he asks. "You can never be too careful."

I'm about to point out that he'll just follow me anyway, as he's been doing, but bite my tongue and just nod. We walk together back into Town proper in silence.

"My name's Rosemary. Rosemary Fairchild," I finally get out and bravely pause in my walking, sticking out my hand to shake his. The boy just eyes me.

"Haymitch Abernathy," he gets out.

"Your father's the tanner, isn't he?" I ask immediately, recognizing the name.

He shrugs. "Who wants to know?"

"And a younger brother?"

Haymitch raises a suspicious eyebrow. "You ask a lotta questions, Sweet Cakes."

I shrug, trying to sound innocent. "I've seen you in school. Your fights with the other boys are kind of legendary."

Haymitch must be pleased by my observation, for he puffs out his chest with pride. There is something between a smile and a smirk on his face - the kind one would show after finally receiving recognition or praise long-overdue. I have to smile. I think it's a caricature, how boastful everyone rumors him to be. For there have been many rumors about Haymitch Abernathy.

But there is still one question on my mind: "Didn't your father ever teach you to stay out of fights?"

The cocky veneer is gone, but only for a moment. Yet it is enough for me to see that I have struck a nerve. "No," Haymitch finally gets out. "He was more of the taking-off-and-never-coming-back kind of guy."

Broken home. Many children of the Seam are. It would be an awful stereotype if there wasn't some truth to it. A lack of sexual education leads to more hungry babies than unready parents can care for. Haymitch is just another casualty. "Sorry," I bite my lip.

"Hey, no big deal; I'm doing just fine," he flips off.

We have now reached my street, where the Fairchild compound is just beyond. Haymitch drops me off here, and for good reason: a Merchant seen with a Seam kid, even on a friendly walk home, would be viewed as very, very suspicious. He ambles off. "See you later, Rosemary!" he calls over his shoulder.

I stare after him for a moment, before shaking my head to clear it and going into my house.


	2. Swimming Lessons

**Chapter 2: Swimming Lessons**

School is probably the only place in the district where Seam and Merchant mix. We all take the same classes, eat in the same cafeteria. But it is that gut-buster they call Phys. Ed. that is the greatest equalizer.

And today, when our teacher ushers us into the pool room usually only reserved for the swim team, I nearly soil myself.

"Swim trials today," our teacher tells us.

 _I can't swim_ , I think in a panic.  _I can't swim!_  The only comfort is that I'm in good company. Most of the other Merchants can't swim either, and even a good portion of the Seam kids look unsure.

Only Haymitch seems as cool as can be. But even so, he seems disturbed by the lack of enthusiasm or even any assertiveness of any kind from his peers. "Oh, for Pete's sake," he sighs and leaps boldly into the water. The rest of us just stare at him. I know with his comment, Haymitch was being as kind as his persona would allow. In getting to know him the last several weeks, I have observed that he can be sarcastic. One might even say snide. But perhaps not without good reason. I know Haymitch sees most of his other classmates as a bunch of dumbfucks who really have no business being in any institution of higher learning. Because, really, how can you fancy yourself a person with a modicum of intelligence if you don't know how to swim a stroke? The thing about Haymitch is that he is the smartest person to walk into any room. And he knows it. What seems to set him apart from the rest of us is that we too have such arrogance, except it is misplaced. Even false. And if any of us think otherwise, we are just deluding ourselves. Like those historicized Trump supporters or old Confederates or Neo-Nazis. Haymitch has no such delusions.

But I guess he must have suspected some aptitude, or even initiative, in knowing our way around a pool. Treading water, he looks from face to face, desperate for someone to back him up. His eyes lock on mine.

"Rosemary! Come on, join me!"

"I can't!" I get out, humiliated that I have to admit my own pathetic failure to him. "I can't swim!"

"You're messing with me!" He laughs, and I am pleased that he did not think me so useless that he would immediately assume I didn't know how.

"I wish I was!"

Class finally, mercifully ends. Everyone except for Haymitch gets detention, but he asks me to meet him by the fence at the edge of the district after it's all over.

* * *

I join Haymitch by the district fence as soon as I am free from detention. He simply instructs me to follow him and slips under the fence as if he's done it all his life. Nervous, I follow him under - my first experience breaking the law - and he leads me into the woods beyond Twelve.

We walk for a good pace into the trees, until we finally reach a lake. I wonder if it is the only significant body of water for miles around, other than the school pool, that is. Haymitch wades in up to his chest and then turns, holding out his arms.

"Come out to me!"

I eye him warily. "How?"

"Any way you want! I just want to gauge your skills. We'll build up from there."

I manage what Haymitch later calls a passable doggy paddle out to him. By the time I reach him, my feet can no longer touch the bottom. I begin to panic, trying to remember how Haymitch stayed afloat in water too deep for his height. But then Haymitch catches me and holds me in his arms. He has strong arms. Muscular. I suddenly begin to relax and just float in his embrace. Staring into his Seam grey eyes, my own begin to grow heavy, and I feel myself leaning into him.

Haymitch suddenly clears his throat and leans back. I flush, embarrassed.

"Not bad. The swimming, I mean. Let's concentrate now on the proper strokes..."


	3. Why Are You So Nice?

**Chapter 3: Why Are You So Nice?**

Ever since the swimming lessons, Haymitch and I have been spending more time together. We walk to school now, and back again. Our only other companion is Haymitch's little brother, Gregory. He is almost twelve years old and built like an ox - he's even bigger than Haymitch - yet he possesses the mind of a small child. Haymitch says it's some neurological disease, but I don't quite catch what it is. Often, Mrs. Perri Abernathy picks up Gregory from school, trusting Haymitch to walk home on his own.

So it is on one of these return trips that Haymitch and I get into our usual banter, which turns into an argument. Haymitch's sarcastic and cynical outlook can lead to him being very gruff sometimes.

"No one in that school respects me, Sweet Cakes!" he rants - his pet name for me.

"Yes, they do," I try to counter.

He almost glares, obviously not believing me. "Then why are you so nice to me?" he demands. "I'm not much of anything!"

I hate to see himself think he has something to prove to everyone else, when really, he doesn't. I guess for some reason not seeing his best self makes me lose my temper. "You're right. You can be mean and sarcastic and you shut people out! Yet, you get way too big a head about yourself and then you wonder why nobody else seems to respect you? Try for some self-reflection! How about a look in the mirror?"

We have stopped walking now. Haymitch is staring at me in astonishment. Then, he suddenly pulls me to him and kisses me firmly - roughly - on the lips.

I let out a surprised squeak and stand stock-still. I don't know what to do. I've never been kissed before, and I only just turned 16! I have two choices: fight or give in.

I choose the latter.

Humming in pleasure, I kiss Haymitch back. I only hope, as I drape my arms across his neck, that none of my Merchant neighbors walk by and see this. Haymitch must be thinking about this, too, for he breaks the kiss sharply and begins to drag me down the dirt path. At last, we reach the Slag Heap.

The Slag Heap is a kind of dump where, amidst the heaps of trash, many boys come and have their sweethearts sexually, on the sly. I gulp. Am I ready for what Haymitch wants? What should I tell him?

I firmly decide that this is an opportunity, and that I tell him nothing. Most of my Merchant family members and others would care about whom they shared their first time with. But not me. It should be, I feel, with someone you love, whether they are Merchant or Seam.

I lie down on my back, slightly propped up by a mountain of garbage, and stripping my pants, spread my legs wide. Haymitch drops his own trousers and settles between my thighs. I gasp and my eyes prick with tears of pain as I feel something push, tear into me. Then, the invading... whatever-it-is pulls out again. And back in.

Haymitch slides along, our bodies building up a sweat and colliding with each thrust. My hands scrabble for purchase along his back, as his dig into the earth to keep balance, taking some strands of my hair with it.

At last, Haymitch gives a grunt like none I have ever heard and empties himself inside of me. I am panting, gasping, eyes wide, still processing what just happened. He gives me a gentle kiss and slides out of me.

We stand and re-dress, Haymitch stopping me at one point to catch the trail of blood streaming down my legs. I should have known it would be painful, maybe even a little bloody; that's what they taught in Family Planning class in school. Indeed, Haymitch's... organ (which I have to admit is quite handsome) is coated by a thick sheen of my blood, which he wipes off with his T-shirt. His shirt, stained with the blood from my... I flush, secretly pleased that I have unintentionally branded him as mine.

I grab him and kiss him fiercely before he can walk away and finally croak out those three words I should have admitted maybe sometime before: "I love you."

Then, we part ways after our heated coupling.


	4. 50th Reaping

**Chapter 4: 50th Reaping**

About two weeks later, I am roused from sleep by the rest of my sprawling family in the Fairchild compound. The girls are squealing - actually squealing! - as they do the hair of those who will represent us today. Being 16, I let myself be primped and preened. Honestly, you would think I was in the Capitol already, and in the hands of my stylists!

For today is the Reaping for the 50th Annual Hunger Games, or Second Quarter Quell. So this year is special, for every twenty-five years, there is a special twist added to this competition in which all 12 districts send one teenage boy and one teenage girl into an outdoor arena to fight to the death. Last tribute standing wins and becomes a Victor, mentoring future tributes.

My ditzy family heads for the square outside the Justice Building, chatting as though we are going on holiday. I refrain from grimacing. How can they be so festive when twice as many tributes have to be picked, per the Quell twist? Not long after I met Haymitch, the Reading of the Quell Card was announced as four tributes had to be sent in this year instead of the usual two.

From where I stand with the Merchants crowd of the 16-year-olds, if I look further down the line, I can spot Haymitch. His eyes find mine and he gives me his characteristic smirk. That is about as close to a genuine smile as I'm ever going to get from him, but it still makes me flush more than I should be in public. Occasionally, I spy my boyfriend (we've been seeing each other in secret ever since our hasty coming together at the Slag Heap) shifting his eyes over to the 12-year-old boys. Gregory is standing with them, but from the look on his face, he doesn't seem to know what's going on. Poor little guy. If he's Reaped, he'll die for sure. And Haymitch will be destroyed.

The Mayor finally takes his place at the podium. He starts by reading the Dark Days speech, explaining the existence of the Games. As if we need to know why it's necessary. This spiel is standard procedure. Then, he gets on to reading the names of Past District 12 Victors.

In the history of the Games, we have sent 98 tributes into the arena. Only one has come back alive.  _One_. "The Victor of the 16th Hunger Games: Cassiope Fletch!" A middle-aged woman who is probably only just 50 herself stands and waves to polite applause. My parents were young peers of hers when she won. I saw a re-run of her Games - a frozen tundra - on TV once and she had more grit than any District 12 tribute has ever had. It seemed to me to dispel some rumors: that Cassiope's win was given to her so that District 12 could have  _a_  Victor, and thus, a mentor for future tributes.

Mitzi Hoops, our District escort from the Capitol, bounces on stage as if this is a party. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" She pulls out one name from the Girls' Reaping Ball. "Fern Avery!"

A little 14-year-old Seam girl tremblingly takes the stage. Mitzi falters for a moment, until she remembers that she has to pick another girl. "Maysilee Donner!"

Off to the side, I hear my mother gasp. The Donners are close family friends of ours. I watch as Maysilee - a striking blonde - bravely embraces Lillian Foley, the daughter of the apothecary before taking the stage.

Mitzi moves on to the boys. "Grant Tylka!"

A 13-year-old boy tries not to cry as he mounts the podium. I know the Tylkas too. They are swineherds, raising some of the finest pigs for market and district feasts. And now, one more boy...

"Haymitch Abernathy!"

My world stops.

At least it wasn't Gregory, as I watch my boyfriend of only a few weeks take the stage for the most awful Games in memory. I want to scream at someone, anyone to volunteer, but no one does. Only Career districts - like Districts 1 and 2 - ever have volunteers. To volunteer for District 12 would be tantamount to suicide.

And I watch as two family friends and the love of my life are escorted into the Justice Building.

* * *

The line for Maysilee is the longest. And unfortunately, my family and I are stuck in the queue.

I find myself glancing over to the line that must be for Haymitch, for I see his mother and brother ushered in. I have to get in there to see him... but how?

Thankfully, my family is next in line to see Maysilee, right behind the Foleys. I give the pretty blonde girl a hug and encourage her that she can win. As soon as I have said goodbye, I lie to my father and tell him I really have to go to the bathroom. He acquiesces begrudgingly. I hope I don't look too rude to the Donners as I run out the door.

I find it maddeningly annoying that there is no one else in line to see Haymitch. I know people think he's a troublemaker, and maybe a few are sadistic enough to be glad he got Reaped for an almost guaranteed death sentence, but at least show some respect!

Strangely, the door is open just a crack, so I can peer in and see that Gregory and Mrs. Abernathy are still with him. Haymitch is talking to his brother in the most gentle tones I've ever heard from him.

"Nothing's gonna scare you while I'm up on TV, right?" he asks. Gregory must like TV, for he gives a little giggle. Poor boy. If only I could be as ignorant to where Haymitch is  _really_  going. It certainly isn't stardom, though he might be on the Jumbotron that broadcasts the Games for a time. "Yeah... Goodbye, Gregory."

At goodbye, Gregory looks confused and reaches for his brother. "Brovey..."

Haymitch looks genuinely pained as he runs a hand through his little brother's hair. "Brovey has to go..."

I shrink back as Gregory and Mrs. Perri are hustled away. She gives me almost a sympathetic smile, and I am struck into silence. Does she know? And if so, does she approve of the dangerous relationship I have with her oldest son? But I put it out my mind as Peacekeepers usher me in and mercifully remember to pull the door to this time as I fling myself into Haymitch's arms.

We kiss for a long time, and I caress Haymitch's face, drinking him in. I sob freely, and he holds me quietly. "I love you," and I choke on the words, so debilitating they can be.

"Rose," he says quietly. "I know who your family will be rooting for... and it isn't me. Just follow their sheep ways, understand me? Whatever happens, don't cry for me. Understand?"

I tell him yes, though it's insincere. If he thinks I'm going to just release him, think again!

I am finally forced out of the room, and I am relieved to see my family is still with the Donners. No one has seen me.

But I see  _someone_. And though I would normally feel trepidation to approach District 12's only celebrity, I march right up to her.

"Please, get Haymitch Abernathy out of there, Miss Fletch," I demand. "I don't care what you have to do. Just get him out alive."

Cassiope sighs heavily, no doubt because she has now three other tributes, three other families - and not just one - with the same wish. "His mother thinks as you do."

Did Mrs. Abernathy ask the same request of Cassiope? I admit, my entreaty is a little bold and perhaps even arrogant of me, but if there is a chance my boyfriend can return to me, I will seize onto it with both hands.

My family finally emerges from the Donners' holding cell. I lie and say that someone else was ahead of me in line for the toilet and took forever. My father buys the story as is and we leave the Justice Building. As we return to the compound, I almost feel guilty that I didn't make a similar vouch for Maysilee to Cassiope Fletch.

* * *

We all have to return to the Square that very night to see the tributes get off the train. The Careers - eight of them now, and possibly twelve (District 4 sometimes allies with them) - only need to get off before my heart is in my throat.

So many tributes... so many! When Cassiope Fletch ushers off her group last of all, I keep my eyes trained on Haymitch. I have to smile endearingly at how unimpressed he seems by everything. If he thought school was a dump for intellectual rejects, his poor brother probably has an IQ higher than the entire Capitol put together.

Cheers split the air at the sight of our tributes, competing between Merchant and Seam. It is like a sporting event between rival teams. The Merchants are rooting for Maysilee, while the Seam is backing Haymitch. There are supporters for Fern and Grant, but it must be just their immediate families, for I don't think their backers clear more than single digits. And there's a reason for that: the age of those little ones. No tribute under the age of 15 (and even to win at 15 is rare) has ever won the Games. Ever. Fern and Grant are going to die; it's just a fact at this point.

We see the Tribute Parade next. I wince for our tributes, all four stuffed into one Chariot like sardines in a can and dressed up to look like coal dust. The President gives his speech, and the tributes are whisked away into an apparently brand-new Training Center.

Training takes place over the next three days, and the day following will only be interview prep, so cameras aren't allowed near the tributes. So we only have to meet in the square for coverage in the evenings. After the first three days, Training Score after Training Score is broadcast. None of the Careers get below a 10. A few even nab 11s. I have never seen a perfect score of 12 in my entire life.

For District 12, the little ones both get 7s. Maysilee pulls a 9. But I have to refrain from letting loose a squeal when my boyfriend gets a 10, landing right amongst the Careers. My father swears and throws his hat in the dirt.

The final night are the interviews with Caesar Flickerman. Since there are so many tributes this year, the event gets very boring very quickly, so I entertain my younger cousins until District 12 is reached at last.

Maysilee is first, coming off as shy but likable. Fern and Grant more or less come off as cute but dead kids walking. Haymitch is last of all.

"So Haymitch, how does it feel knowing there will be 100% more tributes than usual?"

Haymitch just shrugs at what Caesar must think is a really deep question: "I don't see how it'll make much difference. They'll all be 100% as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same."

The Capitol audience eats it up as he smirks. Even I have to stifle a smile. It is vintage Haymitch. Cocky. Arrogant. Even indifferent. My father growls. "Smart-ass little shit! I can't wait when he dies!"

If I didn't have my wits about me, I'd yell at him, for the only reason he's offended is that Haymitch has only ranked his intellect above everyone else's, thus rising above his social station as a Seamer.

I go to bed that night praying for my love.


	5. Poison Paradise

**Chapter 5: Poison Paradise**

I am awoken rudely before dawn that first day of the Games. My father enthusiastically throws me a cap with the name MAYSILEE emblazoned across the front. Really? We're wearing paraphernalia now? I really wish I had a T-Shirt or something with Haymitch's name. But perhaps the Seamers have already crafted those. I remember Haymitch's words from when we said goodbye, which actually seemed to predict something like this. He wants me to blend in with the Merchants, until either he is dead, Maysilee is dead, or they are both dead. If I know my Games History from our class in school, it will probably be the latter by evening. Most District 12 tributes don't get past the Bloodbath the first day, and the rare moment that someone does is always cause for excitement. If only for a little while. Because except for Cassiope, every District 12 tribute ever has come home in a box.

At 10 AM sharp, my family and I have taken our places with the rest of the Merchants. When the screens go live, everyone sends up a rousing cheer for Maysilee that only just drowns out the Seam's calls for Haymitch.

The arena is... well, actually, it's beautiful. The Cornucopia is set in a goregeous Meadow, like the one just on the edge of District 12. This is lined with foresty trees in a ring. In the distance sits a mountain actually peaked with snow.

The sheer beauty of the arena has left many speechless. So much so, that after I spend the minute before the gong searching for Haymitch, most tributes do not step off their pedestal even when the signal has been given. I finally spot Haymitch just as the gong's sound is still reverberating into the air. He is one of the first off his pedestal, to the horn and with a backpack and out of there even before the Careers are beginning to break into a run. My boyfriend disappears into the trees.

The Bloodbath is awful. And with a field worth two normal Games, it is almost impossible to keep track of who lives and who dies, never mind what district they are from. Eighteen die in the first day, leaving thirty souls left still!

Thankfully, my cousin Anna has appointed herself the one who will keep track of those living and the casualties. I feel she does it better than even the faces in the sky seen that night. District 4 has joined the Careers, and all a dozen of that pack have survived. District 12, meanwhile, only lost Grant. I have no idea how Fern made it out alive, but I am pleased for both Maysilee and Haymitch.

For the next three days, deaths are slow. The rest of us quickly find out that anything that comes from the arena is deadly poisonous. Four tributes fall for the sickly sweet and tempting fruits and water and other delights. But not Haymitch. Since making the woods, he has stubbornly proceeded in the same direction that he left the Meadow.

Five days in, it is mid-day and most of us have already grown bored. Suddenly, Anna points to the screens. "Look!"

There is a rumble and the top of the snow-capped mountain explodes... into a volcano. Haymitch isn't anywhere near it and neither is Maysilee. But Fern is. I have to avert my eyes as the cameras catch her, screaming just as a wave of volcanic lava engulfs her. Nine other tributes climbing around the mountain fall, too, including seven Careers.

Anna takes careful notes when we finally see the faces of the dead in the sky that night, copiously taking down what district they were from. There are only five Careers left. And total...

"Only 16 are still alive!" Anna reports to anyone who will listen.

I begin to think. Most years, when there are only twenty-four tributes, there is a milestone known as the Final Eight, when family and friends of the top tributes are interviewed. Since there are double numbers this year...

"Do you think they'll have a doubled Final Eight?" I ask one of my Fairchild cousins. "Like... the Sweet Sixteen or something?"

My cousin looks at me and scoffs. "Why would they do that?"

Even my father laughs, thinking that my idea is hilarious, probably.

But there is no announcement of a Sixteen anything, which makes me think the Final Eight tradition will hold, despite the twist.

I go to bed, my thoughts a blur. Only a third of the tributes now remain.

And two of District 12's tributes are among them.


	6. Career Rumble

**Chapter 6: Career Rumble**

Nearly another week passes without incident. No new deaths.

But on Day 11, all hell breaks loose. And it starts with my boyfriend.

He is still on his remarkably straight journey through the trees, when three Careers emerge out of them. Three of the five Career survivors. Since the volcanic eruption, most of them are half-naked with their skin signed, and they look worse for wear.

But their harrowing deal has done nothing to their rippling muscles.

Yet my boyfriend shows no fear. He pulls a trusty knife, which he has already proven remarkably skilled with - his father, Markus Abernathy, is the tanner for almost the whole district.

The three Careers attack. The first is the Asian boy, a volunteer for District 4 named Jayson (at least I think his name is Jayson), who swings at my love with a branch as a weapon, which Haymitch ducks. Haymitch slices through his chest as though it is paper. Then she spins and slices another boy, one of the two males from District 2 before kicking him down. The other District 2 boy Haymitch punches full in the face. Chest bleeding, Jayson lunges for Haymitch again with the branch. This time, the knife gets Jayson in the neck and he collapses.

Haymitch moves to take out one of the District 2 boys, but the boy grabs his knife arm. They grapple for the blade, soon down on the ground and tussling. Neither of them notices the dying Jayson, hands at his throat, his legs beginning to dangerously twitch from blood loss.

The two tributes briefly fight over Jayson's dropped branch, before falling back to the grass again, Haymitch beneath. Somehow, he lost his knife in the tussle, so both boys fight with the only weapon they have left: their hands. They roll around on the ground - at one point right over Jayson's body - until my boyfriend gets on top as the Career's hand tries to push his face away.

So Haymitch simply bites him. I've seen him fight in the district before, and he is not above playing dirty.

"GRRRRR!" the Career growls.

Jayson finally dies. The bite gives Haymitch enough time to lunge for his knife in the grass and he just gets a hold of it when the Career holds him back. Pinning Haymitch, the Career begins to methodically push the knife towards my boyfriend. I stand still with fear. "Haymitch..." I whisper, wanting to sob but unable to.

Haymitch barely keeps the blade from pressing into his neck. He twists violently, flipping the Career over and seizing the knife, slices it across his throat, just as he was surely shown in Training.

He looks up to see the last boy from 2 - whom I had almost completely forgotten about - rush over and slam Jayson's branch into Haymitch's face. That damn branch!

The last Career gets Haymitch into an execution position with the District 12 tribute's own knife and is about to deal the death blow when -

He coughs up blood. Feels beside his head, and then falls over lifeless. Haymitch scrambles away, his life spared but deeply confused as to how. What -?

Maysilee Donner suddenly emerges from the trees, armed with a blowdart dipped in the arena's poison. She has done well for herself over the last week and a half, and the arena has not ruined her natural beauty yet. "We'd live longer with two of us," she rationalizes.

"Guess you just proved that," Haymitch concedes, and I know from experience just how much it takes for my boyfriend to be impressed. "Allies?"

She nods.

My father promptly swears at this turn of events, loudly asking anyone who will listen why this is happening now. I don't mind. Thanks to Maysilee's intercession, Haymitch has survived a tussle with three Careers. Only thirteen tributes now remain: a girl from 1, a girl from 2, a girl from 3, a boy from 5, a girl from 7, a boy from 8, three tributes from 9, a girl from 10, a boy from 11 and Haymitch and Maysilee. This is all according to my cousin Anna, who notes how District 12 is only one of two districts to get multiple tributes this far.

I sob into my pillow in relief that night.


	7. The Victor

**Chapter 7: The Victor**

Haymitch and Maysilee work better as a team. On Day 13, they encounter District 9 all in an alliance. Haymitch gets the idea to use a similar trick that they used to bring down the Careers. Passing himself off as bait, Haymitch surprises them by killing two and then letting the remainder catch him. Maysilee darts the remainder before Haymitch can be killed.

Later that same day, our tributes find the girl from 10 and the boy from 11, also in an alliance. Haymitch and Maysilee fight hand to hand, two on two. Our tributes fight with nothing left to lose, as the sustenance from the dead tributes' backpacks is quite a bounty; it's the only thing in this arena that isn't poisonous.

"We're at the Final Eight! They're in the Final Eight!" Anna squeals.

And we are the only district to get multiple tributes to that milestone, as our trick with District 9 knocked them out of the Games completely.

By night, Haymitch and Maysilee will eat from the packs and only drink the rainwater that falls from the heavens.

The next morning after the Final Eight is established, one of the last two Careers - the girl from 2 and partner of the boys Haymitch and Maysilee killed - goes insane and ingests some of the poison to commit suicide. Grief-stricken, the axe-wielding girl from District 1 - the last Career - goes on a rampage. She kills the girl from 3 and the boy from 8 in combat.

We have hurtled from the Sweet Sixteen to the Fab Five. And both Haymitch Abernathy and Maysilee Donner are still alive.

Ever since their fight that destroyed District 9, the cameras have been capturing them more and more. They are now the only alliance left in the arena and Caesar and his crew are wondering when they will break their partnership off.

But Haymitch doesn't seem to be thinking about breaking partnerships. He is still proceeding in the same direction he began at the start of the Games. And Maysilee notices. When she refuses to move on without an answer, Haymitch simply says to her, "Because it has to end somewhere, right? The arena can't go on forever."

The Merchants seem baffled by this. Even I don't know what this means. What is he saying?

We soon find out.

Using a blowtorch from one of the dead tributes' packs, our pair blast through a thick hedge grove, opening into -

A rocky crag of a cliff, below which is a deep canyon as far as the eye can see. The edge of the arena. They've found it, but the camera acts like a jumpy child, monkey-camming as if unsure whether to keep filming or cut away. It makes me wonder if what my boyfriend and his ally have just found... was meant to be found.

"That's all there is, Haymitch," Maysilee shrugged. "Let's go back."

But Haymitch shakes his head. "No. I'm staying here."

Maysilee straightens, trying not to look hurt. "Fine. There are only five of us left. Might as well break it off now. I don't want it to come down to you and me." And after the way she has proven herself, I personally wouldn't want it to come to between her and Haymitch, either.

But Haymitch only shrugs. "All right."

Maysilee walks away, and my father sighs with relief. "Finally!"

I am so busy watching my dad's obnoxious antics that I almost miss it. Haymitch kicks a pebble errantly over the side of the cliff... only to have it bounce back.

Haymitch notices and looks around, confused. Frowning, he seizes a boulder the size of his fist and hurls it over the side... until the very same boulder comes right back into his waiting fist.

My boyfriend begins to laugh. He's been looking for something the entire time, and it seems he has found it. But I am at a loss as to what.

That's when we all hear Maysilee's scream.

By the time Haymitch runs to her body, only several yards away from where they parted, the pink birds with sharp beaks are already flying away. There is nothing Haymitch can do for her, so he sadly holds her hand until she expires.

As the seventeenth day in the arena ends, the Merchants are despondent. It's as though we've lost all of our tributes. I feel the need to remind them that we still have one in this, but none of them will listen to me, and even give the still hopeful Seamers dirty looks.

The next day, the boy from 5, who has mostly survived by hiding and sneaking around, is found and hacked to death by the Career girl. Later that same day, the girl from 7, who is also good with an axe, is eaten by carnivorous squirrels.

And suddenly, we are in the Top Two. All of District 12 is on edge. I don't think we've had a tribute in the Top Two since Cassiope Fletch herself won.

When Career Girl 1 and Haymitch finally meet - District 1 vs. District 12 for the crown - it is predictably awful. But my boyfriend is fearless, giving as good as he gets and even taking out one of the Career's eyes.

I feel it is a draw until she sends an axe into his chest.

Haymitch runs, which is pretty extraordinary. He has never run from a fight in the Games before. Perhaps he feels this is one he can't win and he can tire her out and then kill her.

Or maybe... he has one last card to play.

He reaches his cliff from the other day, but barely, before collapsing to the rocks. The Career girl's axe sails over his head and over the cliff. Haymitch is now flat on his stomach, holding his intestines in and convulsing. Career girl just stands there, thinking she can just outlast him.

But what she doesn't know, and my boyfriend does, is that the axe will return.

Right into her temple, in fact.

BOOM.

The Seam erupts. The Merchants swear. I jump up and down, screaming for joy. "YES! Yes, Stickers! You got it!" Stickers is my pet name for Haymitch.

Who is now a Victor. "The Victor of the 50th Annual Hunger Games: Haymitch Abernathy!" Claudius Templesmith announces his title.

I am the girlfriend of a Victor.


	8. Second Victor from District 12

**Chapter 8: Second Victor from District 12**

When the train pulls into the district station in the dead of night, the hustle and bustle makes it feel like it's the middle of the day.

We all watched Haymitch's final interview with Caesar Flickerman, which my boyfriend smirked the whole way through. He must be pleased to have proved everybody wrong, but none more than the Capitol snobs. The Victory Crown is placed on his head by a clearly displeased President and he and Cassiope are last seen boarding the train for home.

Now, that same train is pulling into the District 12 station. As soon as Haymitch steps off after Cassiope, the Seam practically carries him away, their hero. We Merchants stand off a little to one side. My father clearly doesn't want to be here. And for the Donners, who lost their daughter so close to the end, it must be downright painful.

"Cheering that little... pipsqueak!" my father snarls. "Animals!"

I don't know what he's so bothered about. District 12 has now had two Victors, and both have come from the Seam. Cassiope grew up in the Seam when she was a little girl, and was apparently quite the beauty. What did my father expect? Maybe Merchant tributes from 12 just aren't meant to win. We're not the ones who know what true hunger is like. But the Seam kids do.

I finally get a chance to slip away from the crowd and my family as most of them depart for home in disgust. Slipping into a darkened alley... yes!

Haymitch is on me in an instant, kissing me ferociously and audaciously hoisting me up the wall. I wrap my legs around his waist and smile into his lips.

"Welcome home... Mmmmm... my love. You came back!"

Haymitch draws away and smiles, but his smile seems... tired somehow. Even his voice sounds deeper when he replies with as much swagger as he can muster, "I told you I would."

I kiss him fiercely. 47 tributes dead this year, and he could have been one of them. But he's not. He's here. And I'm here, with him and our...

I smile at him. "I have something to tell you... I'm pregnant."

Haymitch's mouth drops open. I expected an immediate comment, maybe even something witty, as is his style. But for the first time since I've known him, my boyfriend is at a loss for words.

"Are you serious? Boy or girl?" His hands go about my abdomen.

I giggle. "I don't know yet. And we won't know for a while!"

Haymitch beams and kisses me again. Suddenly, a shadow appears over us, and we jump apart.

Cassiope Fletch, no longer the only Victor from District 12, eyes us sharply. Haymitch sets me down.

"Oh, uh, Cassiope... this is my girlfriend, Rosemary Fairchild."

"We've met," she reveals curtly, nodding to me.

I try to defuse the awkward situation by holding out my hand to her and shaking it. "Thank you, Miss Fletch, for saving my boyfriend's life."

Cassiope merely nods. And then she beckons to Haymitch to follow her. He follows her like he's her chastened son, and I watch them stride through town, Twelve's heroes, having a heated discussion.

* * *

Haymitch is formally presented with his gold medal the next day. All the Top Three finishers traditionally get a medal: gold or silver or bronze. The Career girl will get silver posthumously, and the girl from 7 will get bronze.

After the ceremony, people flood Haymitch to congratulate him and shake his hand. I am surprised to see my family join the line.

Until my father starts yelling at Haymitch.

I always knew my father was stuck-up. One might even say uncivilized, because he fancies himself such an honorable man that this is unimpeachable to any proper deportment and even logic. But this is unbecoming of anyone in Twelve, especially a Merchant. I have gotten to know Gregory Abernathy quite well through Haymitch, and right now, the boy with a neurological disease has more control over his body and mouth than my own father. I guess that's what comes from being, at best, politically incorrect. You forfeit any chance for more rigorously minded people to take you seriously. "You shouldn't be alive, boy! Mayislee was supposed to win! So I won't honor you, Abernathy! You're a fuck-up and a cheat!" And he marches away. I send a deeply embarrassed and apologetic look my boyfriend's way, but he is only smirking in genuine amusement. He must think my father is intellectually the scum under his shoe. And... he's right.

But my father is smart enough to make it harder for me to sneak out and see our newest Victor. I panic at first, wondering if my family knows. After a while, I am inclined to guess this isn't the case, but they nevertheless keep an annoyingly close watch over me.

So, I begin to smuggle my way to my love, little by little.

It starts with visits at first, in his brand-new Victor's mansion across the street from Cassiope's. Then, I begin smuggling my things over to his place. To move in with him. I shouldn't be as surprised as I am when Haymitch asks me to marry him. If we're going to live together, we might as well guard against the judgment of the Merchants and at least not live in sin.

But that means that we have to go to someone for permission. And, contrary to what I had imagined, it isn't Haymitch's mother.

It's Cassiope Fletch.

We enter her house one day hand in hand and Haymitch merely announces to his mentor, "We're getting married. You can't stop us. But we plan to make you one of the few guests at the Toasting. And we need your help... Master. To steal the marriage documents we need by breaking into the Justice Building."

He pauses, as if waiting for Cassiope to speak up, demand that he stop this foolishness, but she says nothing, instead merely waiting for him to continue. As for me, I'm surprised. I didn't know that Haymitch and Cassiope had a relationship reminiscent of master and slave. No... master and apprentice. An apprentice still learning his trade. "If you can't get back out with the papers we need to sign, just forge our signatures and smuggle them into the Chief Clerk's files. He's so old, he won't know the difference. Please, Cassiope. I'm in love. Do you know what that feels like?"

And to my amazement, Cassiope nods. "Yes. I know what that feels like."

* * *

Two weeks later, my secret moving to the Victors' Village has still not been detected. Perri Abernathy knows of Haymitch's and my engagement, and has given us her blessing. And Gregory is so cute, he doesn't seem to mind a bit.

We are all gathered for dinner, even Cassiope, about two weeks after Haymitch's Victory.

The Peacekeepers burst in without warning.

I am grabbed and dragged out of the house, our Victors stumbling after and screaming for the abuse to stop. But the Peacekeepers simply shoot me. It feels strange to be shot, like you are suddenly incomplete because you've been pierced through with a bullet, but you still feel complete in body.

I collapse to the ground, listening to Haymitch's screams and wails. As I fade away, I watch Gregory whimper, "Brovey..." before being shot - having done nothing wrong except be the brother of a Victor. A Victor who really shouldn't be the Victor. Because of the stunt Haymitch pulled with the forcefield. I can see that now.

Perri is last of all, to break both Haymitch and Cassiope, for apparently the Victor and the mother of another were good friends, once upon a time. And then I let go.

* * *

**Cassiope's POV**

Six months later, on the Victory Tour, it only gets worse.

It is a very stressful time, though being from Twelve, we only have to crisscross the districts and country one time on the way to the Capitol, going in perfect reverse order.

"The Victor of the 50th Hunger Games, or Second Quarter Quell: Haymitch Abernathy!" The Mayor will say. Instantly, I will hear more boos in response than cheers. And sometimes worse than that.

"Hail to the Victor!" someone from District 8 roars when we pass through there, throwing a tomato with such accuracy that it connects with the side of Haymitch's face. Savera, Woof and Indigo, District 8's Victors, give me apologetic smiles.

Haymitch does himself no favors when he drinks throughout most of the Tour, making himself seem more like the clown that everyone already believes he is. When we finally reach District 1, and his name is called, a riot ensues. Several people rush the stage and attempt to kill the newest Victor, only to have Peacekeepers drag them off. The pain in this Career district is wild. They were robbed by seconds of a great win, and will have to wait 25 years - not just another year - for the next chance. Twice have they been thwarted from Quell wins - by District 8, but then District 12, of all places? That's more than some people can take.

* * *

As spring finally hits, the investigation and trials into the deaths of the Abernathys and Rosemary Fairchild go into full swing.

The whole thing is a sham; we know why they did it. But the trials for the ten Peacekeepers responsible are rigged as guilty. Because Haymitch inadvertently fucked over the Capitol yet again.

Rosemary was pregnant - just a few weeks along - when she was killed. When President Snow learned that, he flew into a rage and ordered the investigation.

The punishment for these Peacekeepers? Death by firing squad.

The square in the Justice Building is packed to overflowing on the day of the execution. I can't remember the last time Peacekeepers needed to be publicly made examples of, and I know it fills the more rebellious people of 12 with relish. Haymitch, the person most affected, makes damn sure he is in the front row. I am a few rows back.

As each Peacekeeper is shot in the head, one by one, I look a few feet to Haymitch's right to see a group of Fairchilds - Rosemary's family - sending death glares at our district's second Victor. Here they are, watching vigilante justice being done for a slain member of their family, and all they can do is glare at her Victor boyfriend. Rosemary's entire affair with him came out after her death. Her father seemed genuinely shocked, but he's always had a reputation for being a pompous dumbass, so I'm not surprised his own daughter got the drop on him.

I am suddenly filled with a terrible fear for my apprentice's life. So that, as soon as the shootings are over, I dive through the crowd and seize Haymitch by the arm. We run out of the there, not stopping until we have overtaken the crest of the hill leading into Victors' Village.

"60 people dead for me," Haymitch mumbles, almost in shock. I stop and look at him. "47 tributes, 3 family members and 10 Peacekeepers. All dead because of me. I can't take much more of this, Cassiope!" He bursts into tears - the first time that I've ever seen him cry.

"Get used to it, my very young apprentice," I sigh. "I've had 69 tributes die for me. I still have you beat. And I think I always will."


	9. Advice from the Drunk

**Chapter 9: Advice from the Drunk**

**Haymitch's POV**

I have been starting to drink heavily since the death of my family. And yes, I count Rosemary amongst my family; she would have been the mother of my child.

I still go to the school, but I don't do as well as I used to. I mostly see it as an excuse to get out of the Village and out of Cassiope's hair. No one bothers with me, though I am a Victor and thus a star, and that is just fine by me.

Except for one day, when a Merchant - of all people! - approaches me. Cotton Hawthorne is a classmate of mine, though because of class lines, we have hardly ever spoken. I suppose, being a Victor now, I outrank him on the economic food chain; Victors tend to be in an economic class of their own.

"Hey, Abernathy... can I ask you for some advice?"

I blink, genuinely surprised, but cover it up with a noncommittal shrug. "Sure."

Cotton points down the hall. "See that girl over there?"

I do. Hazelle Benhke would be pretty hard not to notice, with her darker complexion and deep green eyes. But she's Seam!

"I know," Cotton nods. "But I've never cared about that. And if you and that Fairchild girl could go sneaking about, who's to say I couldn't have a relationship... with...?" He's staring at Hazelle longingly. I know that look. Though I would never admit it, I used to look at Rose like that sometimes. And so I decide to honor her.

"Go after her," I nod. "Go after her," I repeat so that Cotton does not misunderstand me. "And good luck."

Cotton smiles, and races off.

* * *

Cotton's courting must work, for Hazelle Benhke is quickly charmed into a marriage proposal and then a Toasting.

It is done in secret, at the edge of the woods. The only guests are Hazelle's family, so I go to support Cotton. I even rope Cassiope into it.

The happy couple toast a piece of bread over a large bonfire, and then seal it with a kiss. They happily dance away to cheers, and we party long into the night.

* * *

A few weeks later, I receive quite a shock when Hazelle Hawthorne, nee Benhke, appears on my doorstep.

She offers to do my laundry for me for extra work and money. Seeing as how Cotton is having to work in the mines after his family disowned him over his marriage, I accept, wanting to help anyway I can.

It feels weird having someone other than Cassiope in my house. But Hazelle works hard, does a good job. And I pay her handsomely.

It is an arrangement that works for many years, even as Hazelle goes on to have and raise five (yes, five!) little ones of her own.


	10. Victor Intercession

**Chapter 10: Victor Intercession**

I stand in line beside Cassiope as her order is run up. Grocery day makes for a nice outing, one that makes for a nice change every several months because when Cassiope does shop in town, she stocks up well. She has the money to do that.

We are in Foley's Apothecary, watching as daughter Lillian rings up the latest order. She is pretty, and not so bad for a Merchant. She's in my year in school, or was when I still went to school. Top of her class. Her father and the head proprietor, Barnabus, hands Cassiope her order.

"Here are your groceries... and your bill, Miss Fletch." I no longer wince at his use of 'groceries' in place of what Cassiope is actually buying: 'drugs'.

Cassiope smiles gratefully as she leaves the shop. As I make to follow, Lillian grabs my arm from across the counter.

"Haymitch - you HAVE to talk to her!"

I frown. "About what?"

"About what she's buying! Prozac? Morphling? Those are hard drugs! If she overdoses on even one of those, Haymitch, she'll DIE! And you'll be all alone!"

I smile broadly as I extract myself from her grasp, finger by finger. "Sweet cakes," I say, satisfied by Barnabus's choke of disapproval. As if I would do something as stupid as flirt with a Merchant, Victor or not! "Cassiope has been buying from your shop for decades. And she's still kicking! I think she'll be fine."

Lillian raises an eyebrow. "Of course you wouldn't listen," she scoffs. "You're the guy who's drunk in the Hob by 3 in the afternoon, walking home from school."

"And Cassiope drinks me under the table!" I capitalize on. "And she takes drugs! AND she's still alive! I think she knows what she's doing." And I leave the shop.

But as Cassiope and I head up the hill to the Village, I think back over what Lillian said. And it worries me. Suppose Cassiope does overdose by accident and leaves me all by myself? The last three Games have been hard on mentoring, with all six of my protégés dying the first day, too stupid to save their own skins.

But my fears are allayed somewhat when I see what Cassiope has bought the morphling for.

Every six months or so, my scar from the Career girl's axe can begin to bleed. When this happens, Cassiope helps me apply a coat of morphling over it, followed by a bandage around my torso. I don't mind it so much because it happens at long and consistent intervals - about once every six months. But man, does that motherfucker  _sting_!

"GAHH!" I wince as Cassiope applies still more morphling paste.

"Calm down, it's gonna be fine," she assures me.

"It's never going away... is it?" It is a loaded question, not just about the morphling coat, and I hate how I sound like a little boy when I ask it.

Cassiope sighs heavily. "No." She pauses. "But better having to do this every six months than having you dead. You're my only friend, my very young apprentice."

I blink, surprised. But I shouldn't be. Since my family's death, Cassiope has become like a mother to me. "As are you... Master."

* * *

The knock arrives at my door late one night, after dark.

At first, I think it might be Cassiope, returned from an evening meal at the Hob and armed with the latest gossip. Or perhaps it is that kindly, red headed Peacekeeper Adam Pontipee, who has taken to including Victors' Village in his nightly patrols. He usually just taps on the door of Cassiope's and my places, with a friendly howdy-do and assurance that both of District 12's Victors are safe.

But when I open the door, it is neither Cassiope nor Adam who greets me. It is instead a Seam boy with gray eyes, pale skin and brown hair. He was in my grade in school, maybe a year behind me. And he can sing like no one else, the star of the school choir. Even the birds sometimes stop to listen...

"Estes? Estes Everdeen?"

For yes, it is indeed the young Seam miner on my front stoop, and who should be there clutching his hand but Lillian Foley of the Apothecary shop.

"Haymitch," she begs. "They're after us. The whole Merchant class! You have to help us, please!"

"What's happened?" I ask.

"We just had a Toasting," Estes explains, clutching Lillian's hand. "We're in love."

In the distance, I can see the glow of what can only be torches, shouting moving through the District. "Aw, shit! Well, get in here, for heaven's sake!" And I usher them both in. I have the perfect place to hide them - the Telephone Room.

The Telephone Room is a staple fixture in every mansion. Every Victor of every Victors' Village in every district of Panem has to have one. Most Victors just view it as a spare room, equipped with only a desk and a phone atop it. A phone that gives you a hotline directly to the Capitol. Cassiope has one. As for me, I almost never go in here.

"Why's it so dark?" Estes peers inside.

"Just because I have to have it doesn't mean I have to decorate it," I quip. "Now get in there!" I all but shove the couple in. "And whatever you do - don't touch that phone!"

"Why? Is it bugged?" Lillian shrinks away from the phone.

"I've checked that damn thing up and down for bugs and hidden cameras, and I haven't found any! But that doesn't mean they're not spying on me!" I snarl. "Just stand still and don't make a sound!"

When I hurry outside to get the lay of the land, I can see that the Merchant mob has arrived at the Village and has already gathered at Cassiope's front stoop. The leader appears to be Estes's father, Lark, who is now practically begging Cassiope to intervene. "Please, Cass... we're friends..."

"Lark, I don't know enough about your son to know if what he did was wrong. I'm sorry," Cassiope is saying, as I stroll up.

"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" I ask as calmly as I can.

"My son has run off with this man's daughter," Lark shoots a look at Barnabus, as if it is the Merchant's fault. "We are going to track them down, break up this so-called marriage, and stop this foolishness!"

"Well, Mr. Everdeen, this isn't exactly a large District," I point out. "They could be anywhere, but those places aren't many."

"Yeah, we've checked the Justice Building, the Merchant sector, the Seam! This is the only place left!"

I pretend to think about it. "Have you tried the woods?" I offer up genuinely.

"Why would they go there?" Barnabus sneers at me, as though I am the scum under his shoe.

I observe the two fathers, and the posse behind them. I can tell from Lark's and Barnabus's body language that neither man has any love lost between them. They are simply uniting under a common cause: to get their children back. And that right there gives me all I need to know to do what I have to do next. I have to break up the fathers, not the children. And I can only do that by discrediting at least one of them, both if I can manage it. I pretend to study Lark closely; I'll start with him since I have the easiest dirt on him.

"Ah, yes, I remember you. You're that fellow who visited Cass in the night several winters ago. Just lost your wife. And you didn't leave until the next morning!"

Dead silence. The posse is looking at each other or at the ground. Anywhere but at me. Perhaps they don't believe me, and perhaps they have every right not to, as my reputation as a trickster precedes me. But one look at Cassiope's pale face or Lark's clenched jaw should tell even the simplest of Seamers that I speak the truth.

I've heard what my fellow Victors say about me. What everyone says about me. They might not be so bold as to say it to my face, but word gets back to me what they say behind their backs. They think I'm such a trickster. Troublemaker for noticing things about them. Embarrassing things. I really shouldn't be that smart. A drunk shouldn't be that smart. But here's the thing about most people, be they ordinary folk in Twelve or Victors in the Capitol: they all have misplaced arrogance about their own intellect. And not just misplaced - false. Some might call me arrogant, but that's because I am the smartest person who walks into any room. And I know it. And they resent me for that, especially when I expose them for their own stupidity.

Lark's face twists further and he finally barks to his men, "I want every house in this Village, to be searched from top to bottom!"

They start with the empty houses first, breaking down the doors and scanning from basement to attic. As they do so, I silently communicate to Cassiope with my eyes:  _They are safe? They're in your place?_

_Yup._

I stroll calmly, so as not to betray my nerves, back onto my front porch and sit vigil in a rocking chair. Cassiope takes up a similar post. This mob can search every mansion in this Village they want. Every empty mansion, that is.

Most Villages have a dozen mansions pre-built. No District that I know of, not even the Careers, has reached greater than twelve wins. So, once the mob has searched the ten empty mansions that District 12 holds, they grumbingly move to leave. I decide to drive one more nail in the coffin:

"I hope you're not thinking of searching mine or Cassiope's places, Barnabus. Otherwise, no more business from us." It's a weak trump card, I know, but Barnabus still scowls. I am satisfied when the men leave the Village, and - at a loss for where to go next - reluctantly move towards the district fence and the woods.

As soon as they are out of earshot, Cassiope comes running up to me. "How did you know they wouldn't look in our houses?"

"Lark Everdeen is as dumb as a brick wall, but he's not dumb enough to invade a Victor's property and break the law." I smirk. Then, I rush inside and fetch Estes and Lillian from the Telephone Room.

They hold hands and give each other such tender looks that even I have to smile. What father would want to break up that?

Lillian actually kisses me on the cheek. "Thanks, Haymitch."

I smile here even if I want to make a face like a child. "You're welcome."

Estes shakes my hand. "Thank you, Mr. Abernathy."

"It's Haymitch," I grin. "No formal bullshit, Estes. We're peers."

Cassiope and I see the couple out of the Village. I only learn later how Barnabus would find the two and, in a rage, disown his daughter. And I had no idea that my path would cross again with the Everdeens in a profound way, 21 years later.


	11. Suicide of the Master

**Chapter 11: Suicide of the Master**

**Cassiope's POV**

The winters since Haymitch's Victory Tour have been long and dark. Add in the coal plumes from the mines consistently blotting out the sun, and it's easy to see why my normally blonde hair has turned to a dark brown.

It is a quiet night when I hear a knock at my door. When I answer it to find the handsome red headed Peacekeeper on the other side, I smile.

"Adam! What news?"

"Some good, some bad. But the worst of it is that Lark Everdeen has passed away."

My face falls. Lark... "Oh... He has a grandchild now, doesn't he? Katniss?"

"Yes, and it looks like she will be a real beauty. Few months old and Lillian and Estes are very pleased. Anyway, I know how it must feel."

I nod tightly. "Of course. Losing your wife two years ago... and how is your son? Darius? He looks just like you."

Adam nods. "Adorable. Always wants to see my tools and he's only two."

I nod. "It must be hard, raising him and all alone."

"It's better than you. Alone with no family for decades."

I smile, enjoying the banter. Adam has voiced these concerns before. "I'm not alone. I've got Haymitch."

"... who is drunk most of the time, poor boy, so that's kind of like being alone. It hurts me, to see you like this." He takes a deep breath, almost like he's gathering his courage. "Which is why I want to suggest something."

I give a shaky laugh and smile. "Oh... OK."

Adam suddenly takes my hand. "Would you consider marrying me?" He starts to get down on one knee, but I stop him, in total shock. A proposal?

"I couldn't have children," I half-warn, half-excuse him. "I'm too old... 58..."

Adam seems encouraged that I didn't immediately give an explicit No, so his voice takes on new eagerness. "I don't care about that. I have Darius."

"I don't want to put a bigger target on your back," I protest. "That is all you would get being married to a Victor."

"I already have a target on my back. I'm from 12, and I love this land. Do you know how few District citizens are enlisted as Peacekeepers?" He's right with that one, very few District citizens are hired into the Peacekeepers' ranks. Most are from the Capitol and are trained to show mistrust for all the common people. "It wouldn't have to be the way you're thinking. We... we could keep it a secret."

"Then we'd be living a lie," I tell him sadly. "I couldn't do that. Could you, Adam?"

"I would do anything for you, Miss Fletch."

I blink. "Anything?" His devotion touches me. And so I kiss him. I slip my tongue into his mouth and massage him there and let him touch my body.

When we break apart, I rest my forehead against his.

"Yes," I finally relent. "Come by late tonight after your patrol. I'll have the bread ready."

* * *

Haymitch is the only guest. I don't own a bridal gown, as I never planned to marry, being a Victor and one who normally followed the Code.

Adam stops by after his patrol. Haymitch seems surprised by my choice for a husband, but since it's someone who isn't at all like the other guards, he approves.

But I still guard against what I am about to break in one way. And it is to protect this man who has always carried a torch for me. Even after we toast the bread, and Adam kisses me - his bride - I tell him, "The toast is all we need to be married. No documents to sign from the Justice Building. Nothing on the record. Just us."

We intend to keep it a secret.

* * *

Adam only stays in my mansion and sleeps with me on some nights. All other nights, he is at his home with Darius.

But that does not stop the Peacekeepers.

When Greasy Sae comes to me in a panic and tells me a Peacekeeper has been murdered in the Justice Building, I go white as a sheet. For I already know who it is. Adam. My husband who married me and lay with me in bed - a Victor - and in doing so, damned himself.

I send Haymitch to investigate. Being Victors, he and I are the only ones who can go into the Justice Building and no one will bother with us.

I stumble about my house and take a shot of Prozac with the needle, to get high. With my husband gone, I no longer care what happens to me. Too many have died for me. Enough is enough!

Remembering the gun Adam left me, I take it out and load it and aim it. After a generation, I will finally be free! I fire.

Little do I realize that someone is now sprinting across the District back to me...

I am still on the floor when I hear my door thrown open. "No! Cassiope..."

Haymitch's arms go about me. "What have you done, Cass? Why?"

"Carry on... where I've failed."

"Please... don't die!"

"You can do this, Haymitch. You're here now."

And I slip away as I hear Haymitch scream: "NOOO! No..."


	12. 74th Reaping

**Chapter 12: 74th Reaping**

**Haymitch's POV**

I am already drunk by the time the Peacekeepers come to collect me. Hell's teeth, as Cassiope used to sometimes say, have I really been doing this for... 24 years now?

The Capitol mourned for the Victor everyone called the 'Little Hunter' but quickly moved on. Even Mitzi Hoops only lasted another year of the Games before cutting me loose herself She said she had been promoted to another, better district and that proved to be true; she was promoted to District 10, I would later find out. But I knew the real reason: with Cassiope gone and only a drunken clown left, Mitzi saw no reason to stay. And especially not at that time, when she knew the 10th anniversary of my Victory was coming up and the Capitol would be focusing a lot of attention on me; they love to celebrate the anniversaries of important Victories ending in 5's or 10's. Mitzi would be replaced by a relatively new escort named Effie Trinket, and we've been together ever since. She is even more proper and more clueless than her predecessor was, but it is almost endearing. Like she doesn't know any better. Mitzi might have acted like a ditz, but it wasn't because she didn't know better. Effie is different, hapless almost, so I have to let it slide, annoying as she can be.

The guards have to practically haul me up to the podium and to my chair as the last of the children are being registered and herded into their pens by age group. I try not to look at any of the faces, afraid I might accidentally pick out one of the children selected for death with just my eyes.

Mayor Undersee, who is actually the brother-in-law of my long deceased ally Maysilee, begins the Dark Days speech. The Donners were promptly elected to the Mayorship a few years after I won, probably as a gesture of goodwill. Ha! How about the dealings of the elite? That sounds better. They were all still sore about losing Maysilee, so when her father was elected, I was made to go to the inauguration. Thank God Cassiope was still with me back then; we fake-grinned our whole way through it, knowing it was a total farce. Then, when the Undersees took over, the Donners conspired to stay within the nexus of power by marrying off their surviving daughter to the man who would become Mayor.

Now, we get to the Reading of Past District 12 Victors. There has never been one since me. Never. "The Victor of the 16th Hunger Games: Cassiope Fletch!" Where there was once applause has now become a moment of silence. Respectable, and appreciated. They all pretend to know her, but I was the only one who truly did, other than that Peacekeeper she was briefly married to. So, really, I'm the only one still alive who can legitimately grieve her. Cassiope had her faults, sure. If the drugs weren't enough, she was fiercely independent almost the point of neuroticism. But she was my mentor. My master. She saved me from death. And our destinies are forever intertwined.

"The Victor of the 50th Hunger Games, or Second Quarter Quell: Haymitch Abernathy!" There is mostly laughter, even as I try to smile and wave. But drunk as I might be, even as I fall off something (I can't quite identify what, but my face is suddenly muddy), I have to brim with anger. They think I'm a joke! They've always thought I was a joke, but it seems that my lot in life is to not have that persona change. And why try to? Because even if I did, even if I tried to quit the bottle, these idiots would still see me in that light.

Effie now takes the microphone as I suddenly find myself hauled back into my seat. Wasn't I just here? Has another year gone by and I blacked out? But no, I hear the number: "...74th Hunger Games. As always: ladies first!" Effie plucks from the Girls' Reaping Ball. "Primrose Everdeen!"

Fuck.

A little girl who is only twelve begins her walk towards the stage. She has blonde hair and could pass as a Merchant even though she is technically Seam. She has her mama Lillian to thank for that; there are Foley genes jumping all over the place in that one!

Suddenly, I hear cries of "Prim! Prim! I VOLUNTEER! I volunteer as tribute!"

A girl, Prim's older sister - she must be sixteen - has emerged from her place out-of-order and offered herself up to death. Like her mother before her, Katniss Everdeen is striking. Exceedingly beautiful, even. I have heard men even my age whisper about her over stolen liquor in the Hob. They think her "cunt's too tight." That's their fancy way of saying that she is too feminist, too independent for their tastes, and too NOT into men or sex or romance. If Katniss Everdeen ever toasts the bread and takes a husband, the poor bastard will likely have to wrestle her into her wedding dress, and then wrestle her into bed. And with a gun to her head. I have to admire Katniss for this, though. None of the men in 12 are anything to shake a stick at. Most of them think with - ahem - the decidedly wrong part of their bodies. Their dicks rather than their heads. And that means they couldn't find a light switch with two hands and a flashlight. They couldn't even string a sentence together, unlike my dead brother, who had fucking Autism and actually could string a sentence together, when he really tried. For as Cassiope once told me, "People don't drink the sand because they're thirsty. They drink the sand because they don't know the damn difference." I had been 18 then.

By now, Katniss has taken the stage. Effie looks like she just had Christmas come early, as she excitedly chats up District 12's volunteer. I now find a need to put in my own two cents, as I stumble out of my chair and sling an arm about the girl.

"Hey, I like this one! She has..." I fish for the correct word. "Spunk! More than you!" I point to a random miner in the crowd. "More than you!" I point directly into a camera. There is a crescendo in laughter and I am suddenly lying on my face once more; I must have fallen off the stage again. So I barely hear Effie give the name of the boy tribute. "Peeta Mellark!"

I actually don't see Peeta take the stage as I am hauled up by the guards again, and by the time I get there, everyone just moves towards the Justice Building after the tributes shake hands and are ushered towards the doors.

* * *

I wait on the train for my tributes, in the Bar Car. As a general rule, mentors aren't allowed to see or visit their tributes. Cassiope used to just wait in the building by the holding rooms until her pupils came out; since her death, I have preferred to shut myself up in the train.

In fact, I still don't see my students until after the train has started to move. Effie has to burst into the car and tell me my tributes are waiting for me, the next car over. So I stagger in.

Katniss Everdeen is indeed beautiful. I remember seeing her not long after she was born, and people were already predicting she would be a real beauty, a lot like her mother. I remember how Cassiope and I, just a few months before my master's death, ran into the Everdeens in the Hob and got to take a look at the new baby. Katniss likely doesn't remember Cassiope, who died when she was only several months old. But unfortunately, she does remember me. And she doesn't look impressed.

Peeta is a Merchant; I can tell right away from his features. Very handsome, and I already know some sponsors will give him more than a passing glance. He leans forward eagerly - kind, naive, I can already tell that about him, but a good egg - as he asks me once I plop into my chair. "So: what's your advice?"

"Here's some advice: stay alive!" It's a motto amongst Victors, and not really advice at all. It's more of a morbid joke, really, but it never fails to make me laugh, despite the morbidity.

Peeta laughs too, and even admits, "That's funny." Then he slaps the drink out of my hand. "Only not to us."

I consider this, then punch him in the nose. Peeta comes reeling back and Katniss breaks up the fight by plunging a knife into the table, inches from my fingers. What a sweetheart.

"That is mahogany!" Effie screeches in indignation from somewhere nearby. I ignore her.

Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year? This is rare, almost new. Sweetheart sits back down, almost like a lady would, while The Boy tries to bring some ice to his reddening cheek. I stop him, encouraging him to let the bruise show, which he bristles at because it's "against the rules." I should have known he was a goody-goody.

But they have proven themselves, and I make a deal to say sober enough to help them, provided they don't interfere with my drinking.

* * *

The media swarms about us like gnats when we reach the Capitol.

I tell myself that 12 happened to pick physically beautiful tributes this year, but even so... something just feels different.

It starts with the best Tribute Parade showing we've had in years, with Katniss and Peeta coming out on fire - literally! And it doesn't stop through three days of training, where The Boy pulls an 8, but Sweetheart beats everyone, including the Careers, with an 11. 11! 11s are rare, but I have never gotten a Tribute with that score for my district. Never!

On the fourth and final day, we start to run into reality. And it's largely Sweetheart's fault.

She has the liveliness of a dead slug. After several hours of coaching her, I seriously consider just handing her off to Effie Trinket. But that would be cruel. Then again, coaching the girl tribute was always Cassiope's job, when she was still alive. A decade and a half of doing it by myself has still not warmed itself to me.

However, the Boy's coaching sessions prove much more fruitful.

"I can't kill her, Haymitch!" He begins his first in a total panic. "I'm in love with her!"

I stare. "Have you ever actually talked with her?"

"Well... no."

He CANNOT be serious. But still, after he seems to pull a story about Katniss in a red dress when they were five seemingly out of the air, I run with it. "I like it. We could use this!"

"What? No! No, no, no, no, no..."

"Peeta, the Games have never had a romance before! And you and Katniss come from different backgrounds - forbidden! It will give spice to the Gamemakers. Now, here's how you can have the most effect..."

Peeta frowns at my plan. "Can I do that to her?"

"You're not the only one who wants her, Boy. There are plenty of others!"

"Who?" Peeta's eyes burn, and though it is not my style to lust after teenage girls, I feel Peeta would fight me here and now if I admitted to the contrary. "Name them! Gale Hawthorne?"

Hazelle's oldest boy? Now, this son of a baker is divinely intuitive! Gale is about the only boy I've seen with Katniss. They hunt together, I believe. Doesn't mean they're fucking, and I tell Peeta so.

"Maybe him. Even some older men, creepy as it sounds. And you want her too, don't you?" He nods, though flushes crimson as he does so. "It's the sin of the flesh, boy. The way of ALL flesh, really. I was just like you, when I was your age."

"She'll probably marry Gale anyway," Peeta says glumly. "Even if they are just friends." I've heard of many a Seam marriage between just platonic friends, but it was based on a deep, mutual understanding; if romance came later, it came later.

"But you're in the Games! You have one last card to play! So woo her! Here's what we're gonna do..."

The interviews blur by. Only a few stand out in my mind.

The boy from 2 expects the crown. The girl from 5 is sly and elusive. The boy from 11 is silent but imposing. Sweetheart radiates beauty, and I feel almost protective when I see that Cato brute with his hands down the front of his pants during her whole three minutes.

Then it's the Boy's turn. Caesar gives him a Gimme, finally, near the end, asking, "Is there a special girl back home?"

Peeta pretends to think about it, then shakes his head. Just like we rehearsed.

"Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?"

"Well... there is this one girl I've had a crush on forever. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the Reaping."

Caesar gives the simpleton's solution - win! - but Peeta explains that won't help him at all. "Because she came here with me." That took balls.

* * *

Balls that might be castrated, when I get backstage. Sweetheart has the Boy pinned to the wall, yelling about how he has a crush on her. What a charmer this gal is. Peeta really wants her pussy? I pull the two apart and reprimand Sweetheart into going along. She may think it's all a ploy, but after multiple sessions with Peeta, I know better. It's an angle, and we're gonna use it till it's closed to us.

Still, I fear for my tributes as I fall asleep that night. That hasn't happened in years.


	13. Abnormal First Days

**Chapter 13: Abnormal First Days**

I usually don't get too attached to my tributes. That way I don't get too emotional when I say goodbye to them, or when they inevitably die.

But as I say farewell to Katniss and Peeta on the roof of the Training Center the next morning, there is that feeling again. The feeling that something is... different.

I go down to the Mentors' Bar, the hang out where former Victors get to watch the Games. It's my kind of place, as there is plenty of booze. And a friendly face or two, as demonstrated by Chaff, a Victor from 11, who waves me over and has saved me a seat right up front. Chaff won about five years before me and lost a hand in the process; we often share drinks together during the arena season.

When the arena goes live at 10 AM, I brighten with interest. A dense forest with a meadow holding the Cornucopia in the center. It reminds me of my own arena, in some sense, except that nothing about it looks artificial or made sickly sweet.

I don't find either Katniss or Peeta until after the gong goes off. Peeta runs away, just as I told him, but Sweetheart goes for a bow. She nearly loses her life when she has to grapple for it with a boy from 9, and then nearly is killed when the knife-happy girl from 2, Clove, stabs him and only a backpack saves Katniss from the projectile thrown at her. She finally runs.

Meanwhile the Careers turn everyone who hasn't fled into mincemeat, and then begin to hunt. They run into Peeta, but oddly let him join their alliance. Peeta proves himself to them by killing the girl from 8, just before sundown.

In the fading light, the Careers talk about gutting Sweetheart. But they're such retards, they wander by her in a tree without even realizing she's there. Even Peeta doesn't notice her.

Thirteen faces in the sky. Eleven left to play.

I hope Peeta's not going to lead them to her and betray her. If he really loves her...

* * *

I have a heart attack the next morning. Or maybe watching fireballs rain down on my girl Tribute gives me a kind of heartburn.

Sweetheart manages to evade the blazes until a fireball sears her thigh. Her problems only compound from there.

The Careers spot her and excitedly chase her up a tree. I quickly realize that Cato fancies himself the smartest of the bunch, as he arrogantly tries to climb up after her. He falls, predictably. And that Marvel boy from 1 just looks like he's on the Spectrum - high-functioning maybe, but I know my baby brother could have beaten him in a game of wits with his eyes shut.

So it surprises me when Marvel suggests they wait Sweetheart out down below. He appoints himself guard for thirty seconds, then falls asleep like the rest of them. I always knew District 1 was full of ditzes, but I didn't know it was this bad.

Sweetheart finds a friend - and a way out - in the little girl from 11, Rue. Katniss begins to saw down a tracker jacker nest.

So that by morning, it falls on the entire Career pack.

Only one life is claimed - Glimmer, the girl from 1, but the rest make an escape with some stings.

And thankfully, so does Sweetheart. She gets a good distance away before the hallucinations make her pass out.


	14. Supplies

**Chapter 14: Supplies**

The next person to die is the boy from District 10. The one with the Bad Leg. Now they're out of the Games completely. I feel bad for Mitzi Hoops.

But both my tributes are still alive several days in and we are a few deaths away from the Final Eight. Katniss and Peeta have already made quite an impressive showing.

Sweetheart, by the way, was rescued once again by Rue, and well hidden. Her burns were healed with the combination of the ointment I managed to send her the night before the tracker jacker incident, and some leaves.

The two girls develop an almost sisterly bond, and I get to see Sweetheart's gentle side for the first time. I never thought she had one, but I like this rare side to Katniss. With Rue, she can be truly loving. I only hope Peeta gets to see that side before he dies.

The girls spy on the Careers, and eventually come up with a plan to destroy their stash of supplies by the lake. I, for one, endorse the plan, because Peeta has now broken off from the Career pack. But he's wounded, somewhere; he fought Cato and barely escaped with his life. Te boy from 3 has taken his place in the group.

Rue and Katniss set fires to lure the Careers away and it works like a charm. The boy from 3, who can't be more than a young teenager is left as a guard.

Katniss figures out the trick of the stash, indirectly, thorough Foxface, the nickname she has given the girl from 5. Us Victors, with the exception of the District 5 mentors, think it's a nice joke, so the moniker has largely stuck. Seeing Foxface sneak away with some supplies, Katniss takes aim at some apples...

And simply slicing through the bag, blows the whole pile up.

I don't know how she doesn't take the poor boy from 3 out right along with it, as he's amazingly still alive when the smoke clears. But he is not her fight.

He's Cato's.

Who runs back across the field and snaps the poor boy's neck in a rage. Katniss, meanwhile, slips away yet again.

Then, there is a cry for help: "Katniss!"

Sweetheart pelts through the trees until she sees Rue caught in a net. She cuts the little girl free when -

There is a blur of action, and the camera can't keep the damn focus. When it finally gets a hold of itself, Rue has been stabbed with a spear, and that idiot Marvel is lying flat on his ass with an arrow in his chest.

Two more deaths. Rue expires quickly as Sweetheart sings her to a forever sleep. She got Estes's singing talents. We are at the Final Eight now, past it rather: District 2, Foxface, Thresh, and District 12.

That night, Claudius Templesmith announces a rule change: if the last two tributes are from the same district, both of them can live. District 2 fulfills that rule still. And so does Katniss and -

"Peeta!" Her voice reverberates through the night.


	15. Feast

**Chapter 15: Feast**

**Third Person POV**

The cave felt cool and damp as Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark peered inside. Given Peeta's injuries, it would have to do as a place to hide and recover for now.

Katniss gently eased Peeta agains the cave wall, lying him as flat as she could. "Nobody's gonna find you in here."

"They already found me," Peeta groaned, sounding something between terrified and grim. Katniss glanced back at the gash in Peeta's pant leg. Even after doing what she could to heal it down by the riverbank where she had found him, the wound still looked pretty ghastly. "We'll just get you some medicine."

"Katniss, I don't get many parachutes," Peeta explained realistically.

"We'll figure something out," Katniss doubled down on her assurance.

"Like what?" Peeta croaked.

Katniss shook her head. Peeta was nobody's fool. Pretending that everything was going to be fine was not going to work as a strategy for long unless their precarious situation drastically changed. But... No! She wouldn't let herself give up. And she wouldn't let him give up. She could not bear to lose him now...

Wait... had she really just  _thought_  that?

"Something," she responded to Peeta, and it almost betrayed the desperation suddenly flaring up in her heart. Remembering the act that she had to keep up, she bent down and pecked his cheek. Peeta stared at her, almost amazed that Katniss could show that kind of affection. He knew how socially awkward, even cold, she could be.

Suddenly, the stillness of the evening was pricked by a floating tune. It almost sounded like a whistle. Yet it didn't sound like any mockingjay or bird Katniss knew. Curious, she exited the cave to find a parachute stuck in the underbrush besides a babbling brook. Lowering her bow she had brought for protection, Katniss retrieved the sponsor gift. It was cylindrical, perhaps a pot of some kind. Opening the clasp, the first thing she found was a small strip of paper, like the kind one might pull out of a fortune cookie. A simple message in bold type was printed there: YOU CALL THAT A KISS? ~ H

Katniss could almost hear her drunken mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, say these words aloud, right down to his very inflection. He was taunting her, mocking her. Yet, in his own bratty way, he was also challenging her. Challenging her to break out of her comfort zone and give Panem a show. Katniss glanced back towards the cave, looking almost resigned, even annoyed. She knew what she had to do, but she still couldn't believe she had to do it.

Returning to Peeta, Katniss opened the pot. "Medicine?" Peeta guessed hopefully.

"No. Soup." Katniss's voice sounded dry, flat, tired. All the same, she put forward her best nursing effort; when Peeta reached for the pot, she told him gently, "No, I'll do it."

Katniss raised the accompanying spoon to Peeta's lips; she heard him audibly wince as he craned to meet her halfway. But, sip, by sip, he gulped the sustenance down.

"That's nice," he breathed.

Katniss shrugged. "You fed me once," she mumbled.

She shouldn't have said that, for Peeta suddenly began to talk the most earnestly she had heard from him, despite his weakened state. "I think about that all the time. How I tossed you that bread."

Katniss stared at him in mid-delivery of soup before shaking her head. "Peeta..." she whispered. Inside, she was dying.  _Don't_ , she begged.

"I should have gone to you. I should have just gone out - in the rain! -"

"Ssssshhhhhh..." Katniss's voice became soothing, almost unusually tender. She ran a hand over Peeta's forehead. "You feel hot..." She knew it! She knew he wouldn't be saying such things if he wasn't delirious! She brushed that back of her palm against his cheek.

For his part, Peeta did nothing to refute the fact that he was burning up. "Yeah..." Still, this didn't stop him from just right on rambling:

"I remember the first time I saw you. Your hair was in two braids instead of one..."

Katniss glanced down than back to him, her mouth open in shock. She almost looked pained. His words were eating away at her inside, stirring with the... guilt, the... anguish she felt. How could he know all this? How could he love someone like  _her_? She was poor, and not particularly pretty, at least in her view. Also, she was well aware of how gruff and off-putting she could socially be around others. Very few people earned her trust, and fewer still kept it. Her sister was probably the only person Katniss truly loved. Her mother... it was hard to, after how ill she had become. Gale... Katniss didn't want to ponder that too much.

"I remember... when you sang in music assembly..."

"Sssh..." Katniss tried to hush him soothingly.

"... the teacher said, 'Who knows the valley song?' and your hand shot  _straight up_!" Peeta almost laughed with glee at the memory, the joy in his voice palpable. "After that... I watched you going home every day."

Katniss stared, the look in her eyes a mixture of tender pity and pain.

" _Every day_ ," Peeta emphasized.

Silence. Katniss glanced away, the anguish and disbelief still not leaving her face. Oh God... he  _was_  in love with her! Peeta loved her! How?  _How_?! Somehow, even if he was deliriously ranting, Katniss knew Peeta spoke the truth.

"Well, say something." Peeta got out.

Katniss turned back to him. She shook her head, her gaze now ashamed, embarrassed, regretful and deeply sad. "I'm not good at saying something..." she whispered. Indeed, she had never been good with words, loving or otherwise. And even if she was remotely eloquent, what could she say? Admit her love for this young man in return, even though she knew it was a lie? Break his heart? She might be cold, but she wasn't cruel.

"Then come here." Peeta begged. Katniss didn't move. " _Please_."

Knowing Haymitch and the whole nation had their eyes on her, Katniss finally relented. Gently hanging up her bow and the pot, she nestled down into Peeta's arms, resting her head on his chest.

"Even if I don't make it..."

"Sssh!" Katniss held her palm against his chest to silence him, her whispering harsher than before.

* * *

The hours passed. As the night wore on, and the sky began to grey, Claudius Templesmith's voice suddenly reverberated throughout the arena. Katniss rose off of where she had been snuggled against Peeta.

"Attention, tributes, attention: commencing at sunrise, there will be a Feast tomorrow at the Cornucopia."

Katniss and Peeta looked at each other - Peeta confused, Katniss's gaze hard and determined backlit against the entrance to the cave.

"Each of you needs something -  _desperately_. And we plan to be... generous hosts," Templesmith finished.

"Your medicine," Katniss worked out immediately. She reached for her bow.

"You're not going alone," Peeta preemptively ordered.

"Yeah? You need it, and you can't walk," Katniss shot back flatly, almost with some sass. It was somewhat amusing, how he thought he could stop her. Honestly, a few hours in a cave together and they were already bickering like a married couple!

But what Katniss didn't realize was that Peeta could be just as stubborn as her. "Katniss, you're not going to risk your life for me; I'm not gonna let you!" he almost growled as he grabbed for her arrows quiver at the same time she did.

"You would do it for me!... Wouldn't you?" Katniss's stern gaze softened to one that was almost tentative.

Peeta didn't answer the question. Instead, he asked, "Why are you doing this?"

This was it. This was the moment. If she didn't do something to break the tension now, they were both doomed. All the same, Katniss mentally glared at Peeta. For putting her through this. She had never kissed a man in her entire life! In fact, she had been perfectly content in her vow to never wed or have children. But now...  _Oh, God_ , she thought.  _Help me_.

Deliberately, Katniss swooped down and kissed Peeta right on the mouth, her hand resting gently on his neck. Peeta relaxed into the kiss almost immediately. Their lips engaged in an almost easy give-and-take. Natural, as if they had been doing this all their lives. At last, Katniss released Peeta's bottom lip, which she had captured between her own, tenderly. Peeta stared at her with amazement, but also renewed vigor - if not yet in body, then in mind.

"Now there's no way I'm letting you go," he hissed intensely.

Katniss shook her head. She hated when he said such romantic things. "Peeta..."

"Please. Stay." And his begging was so sweet, it broke Katniss's heart. She wanted to punch herself. Did she really have to make him  _beg_?

"OK," she soothed gently, finally. "I'll stay." And she curled back into his side, adjusting herself to get comfortable even as Peeta winced in pain from his injuries.

* * *

Things did not improve over the course of that early morning. Peeta's condition worsened, eventually culminating in him shivering from the cold. Katniss watched him, a mixture of powerlessness and anger stewing inside of her. She couldn't just let him die! Even after her promise not to go! And something else spurred her on. Was it... love?

Giving Peeta one last look, Katniss gathered her things and left for the Feast...

* * *

She barely made it out of there. Of the six tributes remaining, only one had fallen in combat. And it had nearly been her. But Katniss had the medicine Peeta so desperately needed. Now she re-entered their little cave. She woke him.

"Peeta! I got it! I got the medicine!"

Peeta stared, noticing the horrible gash across her forehead, dried blood still hanging there. "What happened to you?" And he reached up to caress her face, reach for the wound to inspect it.

"I'm fine," Katniss waved him off.

"No... you're not. What happened?" Peeta demanded in a concerned, loving way.

"The girl from 2. She threw a knife. I'm OK," Katniss twisted away as he laid down her gear.

"You shouldn't have gone. You said you weren't gonna go" Peeta almost groaned.

"You got worse," Katniss replied flatly, without even looking up from her gear. She now produced the precious medicine - a kind of paste - and began to apply it to the wound on Peeta's thigh. It must have burned or otherwise stung, for Peeta let out a gritted growl of pain.

"You need some of that too," he managed to say.

"I'm OK," Katniss refuted softly.

The medicine began to do its work almost instantaneously. Peeta sighed. "Ohh... that feels better..." He paused. "OK: now you."

"I'm OK..."

"No, come on - you need it to. Go on."

Katniss actually found it sweet, how Peeta was more concerned for her pain than his own. She decided to indulge him, just this once.

"All right." She turned her head to face him, revealing the bloody gash. Dipping a finger in the paste, Peeta almost reverently applied it to Katniss's forehead. The stroke of his finger was feather-like, gentle. Gazing into his eyes, the ghost of a smile - just for a moment - graced Katniss's lips. She suddenly felt warm, touched. No one had ever displayed such tenderness to her before. And the way Peeta's caress... she nearly moaned, it felt so good. He was so kind, attentive, and this made her recall a moment they had shared in the Training Center:

_I used to do the cakes down in the bakery..._

Peeta was painting away her wounds, her pain, leaving his masterpiece on her body for all to see.

And as the couple gazed into each other's eyes, Katniss gave a small smile. This time, she kept it there.

* * *

A new day dawned in the arena. Back in their little cave, Katniss and Peeta cuddled closer now, their hands now joined and rested across Peeta's stomach. Peeta had one arm around Katniss, her head on his shoulder, almost burrowed into the crook of his neck.

Already awake, Katniss stirred. She turned her head up to meet Peeta's; her hand, brushing lightly across his chest, awoke him and he craned to gaze down at her.

"Hi," Katniss breathed, smiling in greeting.

Peeta didn't answer, his attention now focused at a spot above her face. His eyes widened. "Whoa!... You're so much better!" Indeed, the gash on Katniss's forehead was now gone. Katniss now sprang up, checking on Peeta's thigh wound.

"Oh my God, Peeta!" Where a bloody mess had once been now trailed only a thin scar.

Peeta nearly cackled in glee. "I can hardly feel anything!"

"We could go home," Katniss realized, half to herself. She looked up to meet Peeta's eyes. "We could. We're the only team left."

Remembering the rule change, Peeta grinned like a little boy. "We could go home..." he whimpered happily. And the couple shared a smiling laugh before embracing.


	16. Finale

**Chapter 16: Finale**

**Haymitch's POV**

Five tributes left. And I still have both of my tributes still alive. This is the best year I've had. Like, ever. Literally ever.

And what's more, almost everyone in my colleague group is rooting for District 12. A smattering for Cato, but that comes from men who hate romance. Almost no one outside of District 11 for Thresh. Same for Foxface.

Who goes quickly, and quite by accident, consuming some berries she stole from Peeta and didn't know was poisonous. Katniss nearly has a fit, and berates Peeta for not knowing nightlock by sight. But they keep a handful anyway, hoping they can fool Cato as well.

It is the night of the eighteenth day in the arena. Suddenly, there is a scream and a cannon. Almost immediately after, Thresh's face appears in the sky.

The Boy and Sweetheart look at each other. This is the finale. So when the mutts attack, they take off running.

They make for the Cornucopia, and barely scale it ahead of the animals. Only to run right into Cato. My tributes fight valiantly, and Cato seems to have an obsession to see Sweetheart dead. He finally tries to blackmail her by putting Peeta in a chokehold, then goads her into shooting them both. He begins to literally ramble, talk to himself, like some guy in an insane asylum, which gives my students enough distraction to shoot him through the hand and feed him to the mutts below.

The Top Two. And I will have a Victor. District 12 will have a Victor. Maybe even two! But then Claudius Templesmith pulls another load of bullshit out of his windbag ass.

"The Rule Change has been... revoked."

But the Boy and Sweetheart don't give up that easily. In a ballsy move, they threaten suicide with the berries they kept. Templesmith is forced to stand down, and both my tributes win.

The Bar erupts and I feel Chaff next to me cackle as he pulls me into a side hug, shaking my shoulder. Me? I just open a locket and stare at two pictures inside.

The first is of Rosemary, as beautiful as ever with her round face and button nose. The other is of Cassiope, a shot I managed to catch of her on her wedding day to that Peacekeeper.

"Oh, Cass, old girl..." I sigh, as I watch my tributes extracted by hovercraft for home. "I wish you could see this... I did it."


	17. 75th Reaping

**Chapter 17: 75th Reaping**

For the first time in 24 years, I am not alone.

Katniss and Peeta move into houses right beside me in the Victors' Village. It is nice to have a neighbor again. Neighbors. In the plural. I used to only have Cassiope, for the first several years.

But that's the easy part. The hard part is getting my students through a Victory Tour where everyone looks thoroughly pissed off and ready to blow. District 11 is the worst, where a few people nearly get shot, and scare my kids out of their wits. For their truly my kids now. And I have to protect them.

The rest of the Tour, we go through the motions. But even back in the safety of District 12, things only get worse.

The Reading of the Card is broadcast that spring. The first Quarter Quell since my Victory, and only third total. I wonder what the twist will be. At least I will have Sweetheart and The Boy to help me. What a time to be a first-year mentor.

Then, President Snow gives the twist: "On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes are to be Reaped from their existing pool of Victors."

I give a roar of anger and hurl my liquor bottle at the TV, still half full. I only just got tributes out, and now I'm going to lose them again.

Or maybe only one. I know what I have to do. I have to go back in. To protect the Boy. Sweetheart will kill me if I don't. Over the last several months, she has become fiercely protective of him. Poor woman. She is falling ass over tin cup for the first time in her life, and she doesn't even know it.

* * *

When Reaping Day comes, my name is called first. Goddamn it! That means -

"I volunteer as tribute," Peeta says without emotion.

I try to stop him. "I can't let you do that."

"And you can't stop me," he says determinedly.

"Peeta..."

"Let go." And because we men don't want to make a scene, I do.

My best students are returning to death. With an arena full of my old friends. I have to get one of them out. Have to. They have their whole lives ahead of them!

* * *

Something is wrong the moment we step off the train into the Capitol. There is a rumbling, even among the Capitol citizens. It feels like anger. Anger at the Quell twist. Reports are it's actually unpopular.

I decide to seize on the moment, after some guidance from Head Gamemaker Plutarch Heavensbee.

During training, I put out a feeler to the competing Victors, seeing who might like to give a middle finger sky-high to the Capitol. Out of 22 people, not counting my kids, 14 bravely volunteer to put my students lives' ahead of their own. For a Rebellion I now know for certain is growing.

Katniss and Peeta get perfect scores of 12 each at the end of Training - unheard of! Then, I run into other pressure.

The Careers won't rebel; they love the Games. And Brutus from District 2 still thinks this is a Game, when he approaches me about a possible alliance. I don't trust him, and I definitely don't trust him around Sweetheart, for some strange reason. It's like I'm defending my daughter. After Katniss refuses, citing Brutus as nothing more than a beast, I gently turn the offer down. And hope he doesn't find them before Katniss and Peeta find him.

The interviews are a total shitshow that, by the end, actually manages to turn the Capitol studio audience against their own Games. Peeta lies and says he and Katniss married in secret and that she is pregnant with his child. And if there's one thing the Capitol can't abide by, it's the death of unborn children. They don't mind the death of live children, but fetuses? Heaven help us!

I go to bed that night elated and fearful all at once.


	18. Quell, Day 1

**Chapter 18: Quell, Day 1**

I say goodbye to Sweetheart and the Boy the night before. I couldn't bear to have to do it in the morning, so I let Effie do that emotional dirty work.

When the arena goes live at 10 AM, my heart goes into my throat. The arena is a jungle with a miniature sea and the Cornucopia on an island in the center. Rocky spokes divide the Tribute pedestals into watery wedges.

Can any of the Victors even swim? I soon find out that the answer is very few as the gong goes off. But I discover that one of the few with the skill is Sweetheart.

She beats the monster Brutus to a spoke and then races Gloss, the male from 1, for the horn. She beats him, but after a tense standoff with Finnick, they ally and rescue Peeta from the male from 9. Thank God. Grab Mags, Finnick's 80-year-old mentor, and off they go into the jungle.

Midday, the Boy walks like an idiot into a force field. Katniss goes into hysterics and only quick thinking and CPR from Finnick saves my boy's life.

I scramble with the District 4 mentors to get them something to drink, which in this stifling humidity, they need. The four get a spile to tap water from the trees. Katniss takes first watch as the eight dead Victors apppear in the sky and her allies go to sleep.


	19. Quell, Day 2

**Chapter 19: Quell, Day 2**

I stay up all night, which is unusual for me, so I hear the weird bongs around midnight. A few hours later, another cannon follows.

Then, the fog appears.

It sears Sweetheart's skin and she rouses the others, telling them to make a run for it. Even carrying Mags, Finnick outpaces both my kids, and the fog starts to overtake the young ones. Their muscles spasm, refusing to obey even basic commands. After Finnick tries to carry both Mags and Peeta, the old lady kisses him and sacrifices herself to the fog. The other three escape...

Right into some monkeys. And there is yet another sacrifice for the Boy. The woman from 6 takes a monkey bite for him, and my trio make the beach as dawn breaks.

After ten in the morning, they merge with another trio, District 3 and Johanna Mason from District 7. She won a few years before my kids, and she and Katniss clearly don't like each other. Great. Two angry girls.

Wiress, the half insane woman from 3, finally conveys to the others that the arena is rigged like a clock. The big alliance take the strangely empty island.

But it isn't empty for long when the Careers attack.

Wiress is lost, but so is District 1. The rumble is only broken up when the island literally starts to spin.

The remaining five regroup on the beach. Five of the eight tributes left alive in the arena, and we're only two days in. The others are District 2 and my buddy Chaff. Beetee reveals an elaborate plan to go after the Careers first, and the others agree to it, being mere mortals who defer to those that actually understand science.

I just hope the plan works.


	20. Quell, Day 3

**Chapter 20: Quell, Day 3**

Beetee rigs the Lightning Tree that signals midnight, and the girls take the spool of electrical wire down to the water. Peeta wants to go with them as a guard, but Beetee needs him for protection. Katniss and Peeta give a tende kiss goodbye. I have no idea it will be their last kiss for a while.

All hell breaks loose just before midnight.

District 2 attacks the girls and Johanna betrays Katniss, wounding her before leading the idiotic Career brutes on a goose chase. Brutus and Enobaria are separated. She only wounds Beetee, but he kills Chaff. Then Brutus is killed by Peeta.

Sweetheart, understanding the real plan, fires a wire-covered arrow into the force field and destroys the arena. I get her out safely.

As for the Boy? He's alive, but I fail to get him. And I will atone for that for the rest of my life.


	21. Don't Be A Stranger

**Chapter 21: Don't Be A Stranger**  

 

Fast forward about a year. Sweetheart and I are finally going home to District 12. Whether the Boy - a shell of the man he once was - joins us remains to be seen. 

Effie sees us off as we leave the seized Presidential Mansion. 

"Effie, don't be a stranger," I smile tenderly. I peck her cheeks, and then dare to go for her lips. Oddly, she doesn't pull away, holding it for just a moment as if we have done this all our lives. 

"Take care of her."

"I will," I promise softly.

* * *

Very few people return to 12 after the war, because very few people even survived the district's initial bombing after the end of the Quell to begin with. 

Peeta is eventually cleared by the doctors to come back. He and Katniss have an emotional reunion, and live in the same house together. Little by little, they become adults, rekindling their romance. When I first hear Katniss moaning in only the way a woman does when she is being made love to, I have to put a pillow over my head. 

Interestingly, Katniss's mother does not come back. But another mother does. 

Hazelle Hawthorne lost four of her five children during the war. The one survivor, Gale, is now a captain in District 2. Despite the unimaginable loss she's endured, Hazelle resumes doing my laundry as if no time has passed at all. I have to admire her for that. And with Katniss and Peeta beginning to embark on their own adult life together, it is nice to have a friend of my own.   


	22. Fall For My WasherWoman

**Chapter 22: Fall for My Washerwoman**

Hazelle continues to clean my home for many months. And we become closer. I help her grieve the loss of her children, and how much she misses Gale, and she opens up. We begin to enjoy witty banter.

She was pretty, in our school days. Still is; for someone who bore five children, she aged remarkably well.

I am drunk at my kitchen table one day as Hazelle flits about and cleans. Maybe I should just get out of the way, before I make another mess she then has to clean. But I enjoy spending time with her and having her around. She is reminiscing about Gale as she works, and I can tell she feels lonely.

"If you're that depressed, why don't you marry again?" I slur. I know from Katniss that Hazelle lost Cotton in the same mining accident that killed Katniss's father. Gale was barely a teenager at the time, just past Reaping age.

Hazelle shrugs. "Who would I toast the bread with?"

I must be drunk off my ass, for I offer, "How about me?"

Hazelle stares at me for a moment, stunned. Anyone would be, at a marriage proposal like that. But despite its clumsiness, she seems touched. Then she suddenly pulls me to my feet, throws her arms around me and kisses me. I kiss her back. Drunk kisses are my speciality, after all.

"Yes," she whispers when we break apart.

We marry that very night. No documents. Just toast some bread and seal it with a kiss. Like Cassiope and Adam before us, we decide to keep it a secret.

* * *

Except it doesn't remain a secret for long.

I am lounging in bed one morning, encouraging my new wife to stop working and come be with me. I've never been married before, but there are parts of it that seem fun. Like the sex we finally embark on as I win our little wrestling match - playful always - and mount her and begin making love to her.

All at once, I hear a scream.

Sweetheart is standing in the doorway, looking absolutely mortified. The Boy is a little bit behind her, looking uncomfortable.

"What the hell are you doing with her?!" Katniss demands angrily.

"That's my wife you're shouting at Sweetheart," I shoot back, not thinking through what I'm saying.

At this, Katniss nearly falls over. "Your wife? She's Gale's mother, Haymitch! Your wife's son killed my sister!"

I try to apologize to Hazelle, but she just redresses herself and hurries into town to get away from the scene. I launch into a shouting match with Sweetheart before Peeta has the good sense to carry her away. He literally has to carry her out of my house, kicking and screaming.

I shouldn't be surprised as I am when, a few weeks later, Hazelle quietly divorces me and leaves District 12 for good.


	23. Hitched, Bloated AND Surly

**Chapter 23: Hitched, Bloated AND Surly**

**Katniss's POV**

 

I knock on Haymitch's door. Peeta stands beside me. Although he tries to hide it, he is literally bouncing up and down. No answer from within, so I knock again.

"Haymitch! Let us in, old man, I know you're not sleeping!"

There. That gets him. Our father figure and old mentor opens the door with a scowl.

"Never call me an old man. 55 is not an old age! What is it, you two? You know I'm drunk before eight in the morning!"

"We know," Peeta responds with a sly grin. "We have something to tell you."

Haymitch's eyes slightly soften and he ushers us in. His place still looks a mess – empty bottles everywhere, dirty clothes hang on furniture. But what would you expect from an alcoholic, former Hunger Games victor? We all take seats at the kitchen table. Haymitch waves a hand in our direction.

"OK. Talk."

"We're pregnant!" Peeta practically squeals. Haymitch blinks once, then again before looking between us. My eyes search his, almost as if waiting for his approval. I'm the last to admit it, of course, but Haymitch is the closest thing I have to a father. Peeta would confess such a thing more readily, probably because he's the morally superior one in our little trio. At last, Haymitch's eyes fall on Peeta.

"You son of a bitch," he says quietly, but the smile cannot retreat from his face. He stands up and shakes Peeta's hand. "Never thought she'd get into bed willingly with you, boy! Hurrah! I was sure that one day-"

"Now, wait a minute!" I try and clarify, half-offended, half-amused. "You know why we waited…"

"You mean, why _you_ waited," Haymitch counters with a smirk. "He was ready to fornicate like rabbits with you just months after coming back to Twelve!" Peeta blushes furiously. Then, strangely, the smile disappears from Haymitch's face. He picks up a half-empty bottle of Schnaps and stares at it wistfully. "I guess this is goodbye, old pal," he sighs.

"What do you mean?" I ask curiously. Haymitch lets out another long breath and sits down.

"I made a deal with myself several years ago: when you two got pregnant, I would strop drinking: permanently."

Peeta gives a little laugh. I know what he's thinking. A Haymitch without alcohol is not Haymitch at all.

"You're joking." I say.

"I never joke, sweetheart," he shoots back, staring at me seriously. "I said to myself, 'Haymitch, when there's a little Katniss or Peeta running around or whatever, what kind of mentor will you be if you just sit around drinking all day? You'll just be the crazy relative who is invited to Thanksgiving out of sympathy and drinks all the wine, that's what you'll be!'"

Peeta roars with laughter at Haymitch's little soliloquy, but I shoot him a look. It's clear that Haymitch is definitely not joking. Haymitch looks to me.

"I know you are both grown adults now; you do what you want. But, like it or not, I am still your guardian. I want to…." He falters and scowls.

"What?" I press. He clears his throat. I squint at him in amazement. Is he crying?

"I want to be a part of this family because I've earned it, not because you feel you owe me for what happened in the past. That is, if you'll have me." His voice cracks a little in odd places.

I realize right then and there that that is the closest Haymitch will ever get to saying 'I love you' to either Peeta or me. Peeta smiles gently and takes Haymitch's hand.

"You've already earned a place in this family… whether you like it or not" my husband adds, turning Haymitch's words back on him. I smile too, get up and circle the table. I kiss Haymitch's temple. He harrumphs in response.

"Silly man. Of course we'll have you. And yes, we owe you… for everything."

A small smile creeps back onto Haymitch's face. "So, what am I now, sweetheart? 'Grandpa Haymitch'?"

"Only if you want to be," Peeta says delicately; he's more sensitive about Haymitch's feelings on age than I am. "'Uncle Haymitch' works just as fine.'"

"No," Haymitch deflects with a wave. "Might as well get used to getting old now. Grandpa Haymitch…. actually has a nice ring to it. I'd like that very much."

He stares back at the empty bottles around him. "Can't believe I'm going to do this," he admits, shaking his head. "But, I am a man of my word…. for the most part." He sighs. "Why do I get the feeling you two are going to be the death of me?"

"Don't say that, Haymitch!" I chide, actually prepared to do something I don't do well, and that is expressing my feelings. But before I can, I see Peeta trying to bite back a laugh.

"What?" I ask, both concerned and annoyed at his response.

"I…. I kind of thought we already were!" Peeta finally blasts out. He cracks up. After a moment, Haymitch and I start to giggle, and before long we are practically falling out of our chairs in laughter.

* * *

The wedding takes place in our living room. No Capitol camera crews. No thrills or fuss. Just we two, a piece of toast and Haymitch and Effie as the only guests. I invited my mother, as well as our fellow surviving Victors, but they declined, citing that the paparazzi might be watching their movements for anything suspicious and they didn't want to tip them off and ruin our day. 

Peeta and I kneel by the fireplace, exchanging rings and vows. I am in my mother's old wedding dress. When we kiss, I see Effie tear up and even Haymitch gets a little emotional. By all rights, he just watched the two closest people to his children get married. 

     


	24. I've Come Home

**Chapter 24: I've Come Home**

**Haymitch's POV**  

I am just starting to get used to being alone again when I have another visitor come to my door. This time, it is Effie..... with a mountain of suitcases. 

"What are you doing here?" I ask. 

She shrugs and gives a small smile. "I've come home. To be with my team."

She looks different. Plain clothes and no Capitol make-up at all. No make-up period. Yet, she still looks absolutely stunning. I know she was quite humbled during her refugee time in District 13, but I find that I like this new Effie. 

I usher her in and even help with her bags. "How are the children?" she asks, ignoring what a dump my place must look like to her. "Enjoying married life?"

I nod. "Being their next-door neighbor at night is the only drawback. That pregnant sex is LOUD!"

Effie laughs, but her voice soon grows quiet. "I heard some rumors. Are they true?"

Fifteen years of mentoring tributes together, and she can read me like a book. "I was married briefly," I grin sheepishly. "Didn't take. Katniss doesn't like us cavorting with Hawthornes."

Effie gasps. "You married Gale Hawthorne's mother?! Why did you marry her?"

"I must have been drunk," I rationalize, which is actually true. I _was_ drunk when I proposed to Hazelle. I just never expected her to say Yes. Hell, I was drunk when I toasted the bread with her! 

I expect Effie to be angry with me. But she only looks hurt. "Oh...." And I suddenly get the strangest feeling: guilt, almost, as if I somehow haven't been faithful to her.

That's when I realize: I'm in love with my District escort. And she loves me, probably. So no more running. I beckon Effie to the fireplace. 

"Since you're here to stay, we have a new tradition here: Toasting of bread," I lie with ease. "It's standard for all refugees. You wouldn't have seen it done passing through as a visitor, but now that you plan to stay....." We toast the bread and share it. And then I ask Effie if I can kiss her. "Standard greeting for newcomers."

Effie and I share a kiss. And then I watch as my... wife rises and heads for the door. "Shall we see the children?"

I follow her. Sweetheart and the Boy are absolutely thrilled to see her. Katniss even does girlfriend air kisses. "When did you get in?"

"Just now."

Peeta moves to the counter to slice some bread. 

"Oh, no, thank you, dear. Haymitch just showed me a wonderful new tradition for refugees. It's called a Toasting!"

Peeta begins to choke over the sink. Katniss drops a plate in alarm.

"What's wrong?" Effie asks. I pointedly don't look at anybody, not even when my new bride turns to me for an explanation. "Haymitch Abernathy..."

I grin bravely. "Saddle up, wifey. We're gonna be grandparents in a few months."

Effie's eyes bulge as she processes what I'm implying. "What did you say?"

I think she's going to deck me. But she kisses me fiercely instead. "I suppose there are worse retirements. Shall we go to bed, husband mine?"

And smirking, I follow her to our house, leaving another stunned married couple in our wake. 


	25. Visit from Old Fling

**Chapter 25: Visit from Old Fling**

**Katniss's POV**

 

The baby's wails wake me up in the wee hours of the morning. Careful not to wake Peeta, I rise from the bed we share to nurse our infant daughter. 

"There, there..... let's go down to the kitchen so we don't wake Daddy, OK?"

But when I get down there, I nearly leap a foot in the air and scream. 

A young woman is sitting at our kitchen table. She has pretty brown hair, a button nose and a round face. 

"Can.... can I help you?" I stammer, even though it's the middle of the night.

"Oh no," she smiles. "This just seemed like a nice place to wait for someone. And he should be here soon."

I eye her warily. What a strange response. "Are you lost?"

"No, I'm just dead," she says matter-of-factly. 

I stare in bewilderment as the woman holds out her hand. "Rosemary Fairchild."

"Katniss..... Mellark," and I shake. 

Just then, the front door opens and a figure slips inside, armed with a knife. "Sweetheart? Are you OK? I heard voices." As Haymitch moves into the light, he drops his weapon and his beer bottle and stares. "Rose..... Rosemary?"

The woman beams. "Hello, Haymitch."

But Haymitch stumbles away, as if ashamed. "I never wanted you to see me like this......" and he seems to be choking up, as if he might cry. 

"Nonsense." Rosemary rises. "You've done quite well for yourself. New wife."

At this, Haymitch stops and almost looks chastened. Rosemary seems to read his mind. 

"You needn't be faithful to me anymore, my love. You've found someone who can take care of you just as much as I could have. And you have the babies we never got to make on our own. Grandbabies, too. I'm proud of you, Haymitch. You don't need me anymore."

Haymitch raises his eyes to hers, but she suddenly kisses him firmly on the lips. How weird it must be to kiss a ghost. Could I kiss Prim like that, if I wanted to. "Goodbye, Haymitch." Rosemary turns to me. "Goodbye, my dear. And thank you for looking after him." She begins to fade away. 

"Goodbye..... Rosemary," Haymitch gets out. 

I feed my baby, put her to bed, and bid Haymitch goodnight. Then, I return to my husband in bed in a daze. 

     

 


	26. Publish the Book

**Chapter 26: Publish the Book**

The people swarm the desk along with the paparazzi as Haymitch and Peeta and I sign copy after copy. It is the published version of our collective memoirs, for the longest time just codenamed "The Book." It details all our lives as well as Cassiope's, from notes and manuscripts she left behind to Haymitch after her death.

The Book becomes a best seller and is used throughout schools as historical curriculum. With the book deals, Peeta and I are able to live in 12 in comfort and raise our family.

* * *

I watch my children, with Effie and Haymitch by my side, play with their father in the Meadow. I nurse my youngest, and as I smile at the wonderful life I've earned, I have to remember that there are much worse Games to play.


End file.
